Shadow Dancing
by gumtuu
Summary: Part 9 of 5. FINISHED! roughly . Most of this was sitting around for awhile, but there were some scenes I never finished, so I posted without those. Hopefully it still works. A sequel to Falling Home.
1. Chapter 1

**SHADOW DANCING**  
A story about the tv show, Cupid  
by Steve Oyervidez

Shadows were starting to fall over the glittering lights of Chicago.

In the distance, far beyond the shape of Claire Allen's house below, the sun was slipping gently below an orange tinted horizon, turning everything dark. As the light faded, the calm street below was left behind, peaceful in front of Claire's home. All along the block, lights were starting to switch on here and there, below the dimming twilight canvas stretching above, resisting the dark, creating artificial lights, artificial suns in the shadows.

Inside, the soft light of a bedroom lamp lit Claire Allen's form as she finished getting dressed, watching the sun go down through her bedroom window. The colors of the sky faded against the dark outlines of houses. Houses, where the lives of people played out everyday. Thinking, Claire's brow furrowed. Where as the days of the people in those houses were winding down, hers was just beginning. Strange how life could change sometimes.

Dressed in a strangely casual manner, Claire finished what she was doing. Gathering her things, she headed out of her bedroom door.

In the living room downstairs, Trevor was looking outside too, gazing out through the larger bay window and watching the sky wistfully as the last of the daylight faded away. He had a steaming mug of coffee in his hand, drinking it occasionally as he looked out at the vista before him. Transfixed by the last echoes of the sunlight world outside, he didn't hear Claire's steps as she came down the stairs, the sound stopping when she saw where he was.

"Trevor..." She sounded tired. "I've asked you not to do that, like... a million times."

"No one's going to see me, Claire."

"You don't know that. Trevor, you have--"

"--_to keep a low profile._" He finished along with her, having gone through it all before. "I've heard that a million times too, Claire."

"Yeah. But there's a difference between hearing, and actually acting on it."

"Sure. But your definition of 'acting' usually means to just 'do exactly what I say'."

"Maybe..."

Smiling, she moved over and kissed him. "Guess I just love a god of love who takes orders."

"And special requests too." he teased her, kissing her back.

She kissed him deeply, but it was obvious that in her embrace, she couldn't resist pulling him away from the window in the process. Trevor realized what she was doing, but strangely enough didn't care at all. he was lost in the feeling of her lips and body against his, tingling from the kiss she gave him. Pulling back, Claire exhaled a soft, warm breath against his lips, pleased, perhaps having expected that exact reaction. Her gaze was steady on his.

"I'm going to work now. Bliss is asleep upstairs."

"Ok" he said, still recovering slightly.

'Be good," she cautioned, concerned.

"I'm always good."

A new smile broke onto Claire's face. "I _definitely_ know that." Another long, tingly, lingering kiss. "But while I'm gone... be better."

He nodded. "Ok. I'll add an extra cheerleader to the squad coming over tonight."

"Oh." With a twinkle in her eyes, she kissed him again. "Siss Boom Bah."

She gathered the rest of her things, car keys and such, and Trevor followed her to the door.

"Claire, you know there's still a cheerleader outfit waiting for you if you want to blow off work."

She spoke in all seriousness. "That's ok, Trevor. We still haven't fixed the rips in the old one yet. Call me if anything. You know the number."

"I know the number." He stood by the door as she opened it.

Another quick kiss on the lips. "Bye, Cupid."

"Bye Claire."

And then... she was gone. The shadowed home was quiet again. Trevor stood there, motionless, waiting. He looked around, almost sad at the quiet, the stillness. Turning his head, he listened. She hadn't come back. He heard the sounds as her car left, its headlights swiveling across the living room's bay window. Trevor waited a few seconds more... before suddenly springing forward without warning, a joyful lightness in his step and a smile on his face.

Looking cautiously around even though he knew no one else was there with him, he moved over to a darkly varnished circular wooden pillar, a similar square pedestal at its base. Standing beside it, he acted non-chalant even though he knew no one was watching him. Not caring that that was true, Trevor stood with his back to the pillar, leaning back against it, hands in his pockets, inexplicably trying to look casual. He began to whistle softly. Then his right elbow quickly jammed back against the wood. Low, along one side near his feet, one polished wooden plank was now extending slightly out.

With one last look for non existent observers, Trevor knelt happily, removing the plank pulling out some objects from inside before replacing the plank in one smooth well rehearsed move. He looked down at the wood. It seemed seamless again, no sign of the space inside it.

Trevor looked at the objects he had removed, gazing at them gratefully. They were simple. A dark light bulb. Masking tape, scissors. And a small Greek cigar box, so stuffed its lid was barely able to close. Swaying to one side, his body eagerly swept over towards the window.

In the shadows, his fingers quickly worked, turning underneath the small lamp on the polished desk. He took the unscrewed light bulb and replaced it with the dark one he had hidden away. Leaving the lamp turned off, he tore strips of masking tape, sticking them to the window beside the lamp into a shape. The living room was quiet behind him. Another strip and he was done, revealing the white tape outline of a heart on the glass.

Trevor switched on the nearby lamp, swiveling it up to shine on the window and the taped heart. It glowed a deep, lush red with the new colored light bulb inside, shining outward into the night. Pleased with himself, Trevor stepped back. Grabbing a nearby basketball, he started bouncing it on the floor as he waited, for some reason thinking of redheads.

Claire Allen walked down a dim, carpeted hallway, moving past door after door, greeting co-workers quietly as they passed her by. Everyone seemed hushed. She smiled politely, familiar with these people but not really close, having started the job only in the past few months. As she walked further into the building and the hallway slipped silently past her, Claire realized some part of her wasn't fully invested in this new job yet. Deep down it still surprised her to think that she was doing this. She would never have expected it of herself Her life had definitely changed. Still... it was work. Something new, offering different challenges.

"Hello, Tom." she greeted one of her supervisors passing by.

"Mrs. Allen."

Opening a door, Claire walked into a small, cramped room and sat down, getting comfortable before a low, wide desk in the dim light. Opening her bag, she spread some papers out on the top, before pausing to stare at the machinery before her, her lips parted slightly. A woman came in and handed her a cup of coffee.

"You ready for this?"

Claire smiled. "Ready as I'll ever be."

"Fine. I'll count you down."

A box light near the ceiling pulsed on, glowing with the words ON AIR.

Sliding her chair forward, Claire put on a large pair of headphones and pulled the swinging, black metal arm with a microphone hanging from it towards her. She watched her assistant's fingers counting down through a glass window into the next room, before the woman finally motioned the go ahead and Claire spoke.

"Welcome again everyone to LOVE NOTES. You're overnight source for help on love and relationships. I'm you're host, Doc--." She paused. "Sorry. Old habit. I'm Claire Allen. We're going to have a good, relevant show tonight. RELEVANT. So please, no more calls about edible panties or how to prevent chafing. And ABSOLUTELY no calls asking what I'm wearing. You... you know who are. All our lines are open... so let's get started."

Trevor kept bouncing the basketball, before finally pausing, looking towards the ceiling and hoping that the sound hadn't woken Bliss. Stopping at that thought, he carefully extended his arms and put the basketball down. The living room fell silent. Trevor turned his head and looked at the shadows around him. He felt isolated, alone. Which strangely enough was exactly what he was supposed to feel. He was a secret. No one was supposed to know he was back in Chicago, or even alive. This was his life. This was his 'low profile'.

And then, there was a knock on the front door.

Trevor's body tensed, turning towards the sound. Keeping his movements slow, he walked over to the door, completely serious now. Taking a deep breath, his hand paused on the door handle, trying to strengthen himself. Then without thinking, he wrenched the door open.

Ian Frechette was standing there, frowning at him in the light from above Claire's front house step. His cold gaze looked straight onto Trevor's eyes.

Trevor froze, the silent moment stretching between them in anticipation of what might happen next.

Then a smile broke across Trevor's face.

"Hey, man. Took long enough... Come on in."

Frechette grinned back at him, eyes creasing happily as he stepped into Claire Allen's home. Trevor shut the door behind them both. A concerned look passed over Frechette's face, thinking of something and turning back to Trevor once they fell into shadow again.

"You didn't do it, did you?"

Trevor didn't understand. "Do what?"

"Look through the peephole. Check who it was. You just carelessly opened the door--"

Moaning, Trevor turned away. "Oh don't start that again. I knew you would be coming. I put up the signal."

"Trevor, you have to keep--"

"-- a low profile. Right. Gods. You're starting to sound just like Claire."

"Well, she doesn't know I come here, does she? The rest of Chicago doesn't know you're still alive, do they? That because it's a secret that has to be carefully, carefully kept."

"Ok. I'm the secret that is carefully, carefully kept." Trevor turned to him. "And hey. I AM keeping a low profile. And I do know how to keep secrets. The Pope and that little waitress near the Vatican for instance. The crashed alien planet-to-planet salesmen at Roswell. Even you. Claire doesn't have a clue."

"That's good then, Trevor. We need to keep it that way. She would never approve of what we're doing. Where is she anyway?"

"At work. As usual. Bliss is upstairs asleep."

The two of them were walking towards the dining room table. Frechette was carrying a briefcase. Moving ahead, Trevor casually switched on the dining room light, but Frechette paused, hanging back in the shadows.

"Trevor... the curtains."

He turned back. "What?"

"The curtains! The curtains! We could be seen!"

Trevor huffed impatiently. "Ok, _mom_."

He slid the curtain shut. Now that the two of them were isolated, Frechette moved forward into the light. Trevor beamed happily from the other side of the table, putting down his nearly overflowing cigar box and looking at him eagerly.

"Ok, Ian... What do you got?"

A thick notebook and stack of folders slammed down onto the dining room table beside Frechette's open expensive leather briefcase. His hands quickly spread the folders and sheets of paper out across it's surface for easy viewing, flipping open the notebook with precise hand written notes inside. Some of the papers were cleanly labeled and sorted copies of pictures. Others were just cataloged stacks of information. On the other side of the table, Trevor was pulling out a pile of unorganized slips of paper from the cigar box, leaving them jumbled on the table's surface.

Trevor spoke up, looking across the table at him. "So. Hit me with it, Proxy Man."

With a sigh, Frechette looked up from his notes. "Shawna and Justin fell through."

Trevor leaned back, bitterly disappointed. "What? How? I thought that was a lock!"

"I know. So did I. Everything seemed perfectly aligned. I took all your steps. Confirmed all the signs you taught me. But then last Wednesday for reasons I'm unaware of, it all blew up. And now they're not speaking to each other."

"What happened?"

Frechette shook his head. He looked down at his notes, the glow from the papers reflecting off his glasses with the room dim behind him. "I don't know. I didn't see it, since I wasn't there."

"I told you to stay on them."

"I'm juggling over two dozen different couples right now, Trevor! This case load you've given me is insane. I can't be with one couple all the time, Trevor."

"Yes you can! You do what it takes. We'll get back to that." Trevor searched his pile of jumbled slips of paper, pausing on one. "What about those two professional football players we saw butt patting on tv at soldier field?"

Frechette seemed embarrassed. "Security threw me out. I'll try again tomorrow."

"Joe and Diana?"

"Believe me. Nothing there."

"Have you done anything to start it up again?"

"I haven't had time."

"Hmm... I thought you wanted to help me with this. Guess maybe, I was wrong."

Frechette seemed offended. "I believe in what we're doing Trevor."

"Sure. But I don't think you see the the larger scope."

Intrigued, Frechette looked up from his large notebook of handwritten notes and pulled an even smaller notepad from his coat pocket, his pen waiting eagerly over it in his hands, ready to learn. "And what is that? Teach me, master."

Trevor twinged, uncomfortable. "Please stop calling me that."

Looking up again, he saw Frechette standing there, a willing audience.

"Ok... Grab a seat. Class is in session."

Inside the dim lighting of the radio studio, Claire was listening to the next caller, the woman's voice coming through her headphones.

"_So please... help me, _" the woman softly pleaded. "_You're the relationship expert. How do I find someone?_"

Still facing Trevor from his seat at the brightly lit dining room table, Frechette leaned forward eagerly, his pen ready to write. "So teach me, Cupid. How do I get these couples together?"

Claire smiled at the question. She leaned closer to the microphone hanging before her before, getting comfortable, before answering the woman on the line. "Well... understanding the nature of relationships can be a complicated thing..."

Trevor spread his arms. "It's not complicated, Doctor man. In the game, set, and matches of love, over thinking things is like throwing in the towel! Or whatever other mixed sports metaphors you can think of."

Keeping his eyes of Frechette Trevor started to pace, moving his arms for emphasis, growing more enthusiastic and animated by the second. "LOVE... is everything, man. Everything. You've got to make them see that. Make them see that it's the most amazing, incredible thing in the world! And it's easy! You just have to realize what love needs..."

"What love needs is patience." Claire continued to speak to the caller, her voice confident and feeling fully in her element. "Awareness. Time. It needs freedom to blossom to fruition on its own accord despite the obstacles."

Trevor scoffed. "Obstacles? Never let obstacles make you wait! Make the obstacles wait on you!"

Frechette blinked. "I don't really know what that means."

"You don't NEED to know what it means! Just Break down the obstacles, man! Burn down the walls!" Trevor was speaking more and more loudly now, shouting in full Preacher mode. "Love needs heat! Speed! Fire! Want to make a match? Then light the match!! You don't stop! Ever! Love is a race car, barreling over a cliff with no brakes, exciting and out of control, going a million miles an hour with your hair on fire! If something gets in the way, what you do is," Trevor rammed his elbow towards his side, grunting, making a fist, lifting a knee, as animated as a male cheerleader. "You charge through with your guns blazing, face your fears, and above all keep going! The express train of love looks only at the destination and doesn't turn, with the absolute certainty that it will happen man!"

Frechette continued to write notes, reading the words race car and express train written there on his notepad, wondering if any of it would be useful at all.

Sighing at what she heard, Claire shook her head in the studio. "Caller, what you're talking about is infatuation. And while I agree that sort of passion is good, essential even, pushing too hard or rushing things too fast can crush a potentially long term relationship."

Trevor laughed, disagreeing. "Going fast is the only way to win the race, man."

Claire answered back. "Yes, but going to fast usually just leads to a car wreck. Forcing things that should happen naturally is never good."

Trevor shook his head at how Frechette responded. "Not true proxy man. why do all you shrinks think that way? Let me tell you a secret. No matter what... most people... are stupid. Gum chewing through life with zombie eyes without seeing the possibilities."

Claire shrugged. "Sizzle fizzles."

"But you can't light a fire without it. Sometimes you got to just smack people on the side of the head to make them-- Hey... no. Don't write that down... Don't--. That's not literally-... Wait, you know what. Write that down. Go ahead and use it to set the spark, doctor man. Get their blood pumping, push through the fears. Things don't happen unless you make them happen."

Claire leaned forward towards her microphone again. "Oh, on that point I agree. You have to be open to the possibilities. But sometimes our instincts are better than we think. Look inside, follow the pull of your--"

Trevor looked quickly downwards to his belt as he stood there, "--heart. Follow the pull of your heart."

Frechette nodded as Trevor continued.

"And eventually, they'll get to the most important question for the long haul..."

Intrigued, Frechette paused in his notes, leaning forward, looking up. "Yes, Master?"

Trevor paused longer for emphasis. "If after a month of seeing your partner naked... do they still make you hot?"

Claire laughed into her microphone. "Well, that seems to be a rather limited viewpoint, caller. It's a more superficial level of attraction that has little to do with true love."

Trevor shrugged at Frechette's almost word for word response. "Maybe it is superficial. But it's the first step to the deeper stuff."

Claire considered further, obviously thinking of a specific person. "Someone less _mature_ might just be looking to start with sexual energy at the beginning. Which..." she paused, remembering, "... can be fun too."

In the dining room Trevor nodded slowly. "Very fun, man..."

Claire turned her head. "And being physically attracted to a person is an essential part. But afterwards, real love can't be based solely on that alone. Otherwise the foundation crumbles. For something long term you need more than just a physical connection. You need a connection deep in your heart. Deep in your soul. And after all is said and done..."

Trevor nodded. "After all the crap is out of the way..."

Claire smiled. "After all the fears, after all the broken hearts..."

Trevor seemed serious. "After all the suffering before is finished--"

Claire's eyes twinkled. "--and the obstacles are gone--"

Trevor nodded, "--in the end true love is totally--"

Claire continued. "--and completely--"

In both locations, the two of them finally spoke together.  
"_Worth it_" they said as one.

Claire smiled silently for a second, not knowing why.

Trevor smiled too, feeling better. He pulled out a chair and sat down across from Frechette at the table. "Ok, doctor man. Let's look at your couple notes and get to some specifics, see what we can fix."

Claire checked the time from a clock glowing on the wall. Beyond the glass, her assistant was motioning too. "Ok. Thank you caller. We'll be back in a few minutes. You're listening to LOVE NOTES with Claire Allen. Don't go away."

She pulled back slightly, and her assistant's voice from the control room came through her headphones. "_Ok... you're off._"

Claire looked down and checked the time on her wristwatch. Quickly she pulled out her cell phone and pressed a speed dial button.

In the dining room, Trevor and Frechette were poring over Frechette's couples notes when Frechette checked the expensive watch on his wrist, looking down at it.

"Trevor isn't it about time for--"

At that moment, the cell phone Trevor had placed specifically beside him on the table began to ring. Without looking away from the notes, he picked it up and answered in one fast motion.

"Everything's fine, honey" he said immediately, hanging up and placing the phone back down, going on with his suggestions.

In the studio, Claire's mouth paused, never having gotten a word out. She looked up, thinking, before turning back to her work.

Pouring over the notes, Trevor was speaking to Frechette when he paused and noticed an angelic, little brown haired girl standing by the entry into the dining room. He realized his rather impassioned speech earlier must have awoken his daughter.

"Bliss, are you okay?"

She nodded, silent.

The little girl didn't come closer, watching them.

Concerned, Frechette was looking at her too.

"How is she?" he asked. "Still hasn't spoken?"

"Not a word..." Trevor looked at Frechette for a moment, thinking of something off topic, before turning his eyes back to the little girl and noticing that her attention had shifted. She was gazing instead towards an empty corner of the dining room, and as she did her smile grew wider. After a moment, she strangely waved a hello towards that empty spot.

Confused, Trevor blinked. "What are you looking at, honey?"

Realizing the direction Bliss was facing, Frechette seemed to suddenly grow nervous across the table, trying to change the subject.

"Umm, probably just a moth, Trevor. Now about the list--"

"Yeah, I just realized there's a problem with the list. Just a second..." Trevor spoke kindly over to his daughter. "Honey, go back to sleep. I promise I won't be loud. Everything's fine. Daddy's working now."

That seemed to make the tiny little girl happy. She came forward into the light and gave her father a quick, silent hug before heading back upstairs.

Beside him, Frechette was barely paying attention, his brow furrowed at what Trevor had said as he hunched forward over the table and frantically searched his notes, shocked he could have missed something. "A problem? On the list? What problem?"

"Someone on the list is missing," Trevor answered, turning back to face him.

Frechette continued to search. "Who? Who did I miss? I've been telling you all the possibilities. I've--"

"You," Trevor interrupted. "The person missing is you."

"Me?" The older man seemed surprised.

"Yeah. You. You need some loving in your life. Don't worry, I'll hook you up, Doc. Just tell me what you're looking for. Redhead? Bald? Young, old, girl, guy, Lindsay Lohan? Because hey, I could do it."

Uncomfortable, Frechette sputtered. "Well, no. Thanks... I... I don't--"

The bearded man looked toward the same empty corner that Bliss had waved too, before looking away again. "I'm already, sort of--"

"Hey, don't give me that, man." Trevor looked him over, evaluating, but his lips twitched slightly when he spoke, trying to sound reassuring. "Umm... come on! You're one HOT DOC. I'm... sure the girls are lining up for you. Somewhere. Somehow... It's my job to find the how. Women waiting for you? I'll find that line. May take the rest of my life, but I'll find it."

Skeptical, Frechette looked at him. "You... You're going to find it. Stuck in here..." He motioned to the rest of the house.

Trevor nodded.

"Super excellent observation. Which brings me to my next point. I need you to watch Bliss for me..."

"Oh not again. " Frechette moaned, throwing down his pen.

"I have to get out of these walls, man. Besides, Bliss likes you."

"Bliss isn't the problem. It's you. If you're recognized, Trevor--"

"I won't be recognized."

"If your seen--"

"I won't be seen."

Frechette shook his head. "Trevor, you--"

"--can't live this way!" Trevor interrupted loudly, looking at him for a long moment, a desperation in his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was lowered. "Stuck inside all the time. Like a shadow. Not whole. Not real. Not... free. Could you, Ian? If you were in my place... could you do that?"

Looking away, Frechette paused, thinking. Finally, after a long silent moment, he looked backup.

"I guess I couldn't."

The two men looked at each other, coming to an understanding.  
Trevor started gathering some things, throwing on a hooded sweat top, followed by a coat for the cold air outside. After he had grabbed everything, about to leave, he turned back to Frechette.

"Just keep an eye on Bliss. Don't worry. She likes you. She inexplicably seems to think you are fun."

Frechette nodded as Trevor started to leave, before calling out. "...and Trevor?"

"Yeah?"

Frechette still looked at him with sympathy. "Good luck."

Trevor smiled. "Thanks."

The bearded man continued. "And may I also say... it's been an honor and a privilege tonight. Learning from the great Cupid. The one, and only... truly amazing god of love."

Expressionless, Trevor looked away, pausing for a very long second. "Ok... you're kinda creeping me out now, man."

And with that, Trevor opened the front door and was gone, leaving Frechette sitting in the lit dining room of the dark, silent house.

A shadow moved through the streets. Hidden. Unseen. Simply another person's outline passing by. Above, streetlights glowed brightly, but the hooded figure avoided them in the distance, moving towards a street corner.

Far away, two very large headlights suddenly appeared, moving closer slowly.

Somewhere unseen, music started playing, sounding like a pipe organ playing long, introspective chords, softly.

The two headlights came rumbling closer, pulling up to the street corner under the glow of a light to reveal a large city transit bus, stopping. Through the large windows along its side, the view of the interior revealed that it was virtually empty at that time of night.

The pipe organ chords continued to play as the figure stepped out of the shadows, looking small beside the size of the bus as the person got onboard. In the distance, visible inside, the figure moved towards the back seats of the bus as the vehicle started to roll forward again, slowly rumbling away.

More musical instruments joined the pipe organ over the image of the retreating taillights of the bus. A guitar was softly playing a fast, repeating rhythm, rising slowly in anticipation. Slowly the music crescendoed, growing louder, until finally it was joined by a bass guitars and drums, the organ chords fading away.

Downtown in the night, the bus squealed to a stop as it's doors folded open. Trevor stepped off and looked up at the skyscrapers glittering all around him, far above his head. Lowering his gaze, he looked at the people walking by on the sidewalk in the cold air, busy even at this time of night. A line of seemingly endless car headlights were racing past on the street behind the bus. As the bus finally pulled slowly away, Trevor took in all the activity, feeling it alive around him, finally free of the confines of home. He smiled under the hood that covered most of his face in shadow. Sighing contentedly, he moved off down the sidewalk into the chilling night.

Inside the radio studio, Claire was speaking into the microphone hanging before her to answer the caller's question.

"Well, Samantha, sometimes it's natural to feel the need to break out, break free, break away from the self imposed walls we surround ourselves with. It's always easy to find yourself stuck in a rut."

The music swelled and a man began to sing.

_I want to run, I want to hide,  
I want to tear down these walls, that hold me inside..._

As he walked through the crowd, Trevor looked ahead and spotted a man squeezing past a woman he had obviously never met before. The man's head turned after he passed, watching her. She smiled back at him, their eyes meeting for a moment. But then he turned and continued forward, the moment gone.

_I want to reach out, and touch the flame  
Where the streets have no name..._

The man took several steps and was now approaching Trevor, quickly checking his cell phone before dropping it into the pocket of his expensive brown outer coat, not looking back.

Suddenly the man veered towards an all night coffee bar beside him. Trevor veered with him. The two of them collided, bumping hard as they both tried to get in at the same time. Apologizing, Trevor stepped back and pulled open the door for the man. The man glared at him and went inside. Not following him in, Trevor simply smiled, victoriously lifting the cell phone he had removed from the man's pocket.

_Where the streets have no name..._

Moving quickly now, Trevor continued walking down the sidewalk towards the woman waiting to catch a taxi. Still looking back at the coffee bar, Trevor seemed to almost watch past her when he suddenly turned and with an exaggerated surprise he stopped and pretended to finally notice her there. He spoke to her.

"Miss, could you do me a favor? I'm in a super humongous rush and I just saw that very attractive man in the brown coat drop his cell phone. Could you go in there and give it to him? He just now went inside that coffee place over there."

Surprised, the woman took the cell phone from him. "Sure. Thanks."

Watching her, Trevor's face almost gleamed, pleased. "Hey, I gotta go. Name the first born after me, okay?"

As he walked happily away, the woman blinked at what he had said, calling after him. "Wait! What's your name!"

Trevor turned but didn't stop, walking backwards with a smile. "Doesn't matter!"

_Where the streets have no name _

We're still building then tearing down love,

Tearing down love 

Inside Claire's studio, she continued to speak into the microphone.  
"In life, or in relationships, sometimes we can lose ourselves, forget what makes us unique. Attractive. Forget what makes us who we are. It's always important to make the effort... to find that again."

_And when I go there, I go there with you _

It's all I can do... 

Now further down the block, Trevor was talking to a pretty blends woman and pointing to another man across the darkened street. The two of them smiled as Trevor leaned in and whispered encouragement into her ear. For a few moments, the woman nodded in agreement. Then suddenly her eyes widened and what he said and she pulled back and slapped Trevor across the face before storming away. Tenderly, he touched his cheek, watching her leave before he shrugged and continued on. He walked down the darkened sidewalk, streetlights shining down from above in circles of light as a different woman's voice could be heard calling in to Claire's show.

_"Mrs. Allen, do you feel it's fair that you lost your license because of the incident four years ago? The incident with the patient you fell in love with?"_

In the studio, looked down, swallowing before answering. "I... I don't want to talk about that."

The caller pressed on, coming through her headphones. "_What about the rumors in the last few months of sightings of Trevor Hale. Here in the city. Do you think there's any possibility that he may be still alive?"_

Walking down the street, Trevor pulled his hood in tighter, blending in with the crowd on the sidewalk.

Claire paused in her studio, having that question asked of her before. Her first response was flippant. "Well I'm sure he's alive and well in a restaurant right at this moment having tea with Bigfoot, Elvis, and Jimmy Hoffa. It's ridiculous, just rumors, nothing more."

After that Claire suddenly grew introspective, wondering why that question was asked so much. Thinking about it, she became lost in her own thoughts, gazing at nothing, as she replied. "But I... I understand the desire to want Trevor to be alive..."

In the cold night air outside, Trevor carried a sealed styrofoam cup of hot coffee in his hands, steam whisping out from under the plastic lid as he walked across the city park in the darkness.

Over that image Claire's voice could still be heard talking to the caller in the studio.

_"Sometimes it's a harsh world. A world where we lose things. Before we're ready for them to leave. And it's comforting to want the story to continue, to see what happens next. To want those things back in our lives again, back the way they were."_

Trevor moved towards a man wrapped tightly in several multiple layers of tattered, disheveled clothing, sitting on a park bench in the cold. He had wrinkled skin, a scraggily beard, and a huge cloth bag by his side, where he collected various items abandoned on the streets of Chicago.

Claire continued.

_"But life doesn't work that way. We can never really go back. Because things are never really the same after."_  
Without saying a word, Trevor plopped himself down on the park bench beside him. They were both quiet as they sat beside each other for several seconds, before Trevor finally offered the man the cup of coffee he had bought for him.

Claire continued to speak. _"Yet I can understand how despite that, how despite everything it's nice to think Trevor's still out there, doing what he does. Helping people."_

The scraggily bearded man seemed surprised at Trevor's gesture, looking at Trevor strangely before his hands slowly took the styrofoam coffee cup from him. Trevor patted the older man's shoulder like they were long lost friends, whispering something to the man. The man wasn't used to being talked too, and he was at a loss. Trevor motioned to the coffee, and then pointed towards a woman nearby. She was older too, pushing a rusted shopping cart full of crumpled soda cans, softly muttering incoherent words, totally unaware of anyone around her.

Coming out of nowhere, Claire's voice could still be heard.

_"When it comes to finding love, so many things are pulling against us. Bad luck, doubt, fears, missed opportunities..."_

Finishing his talk, Trevor stood up, happy that he had accomplished something as he walked away. The bearded man looked at the coffee cup gratefully after Trevor had gone, slowly pulling open the lid... before pouring the hot liquid inside it out onto the grass and placing the styrofoam cup onto his head like a hat.

All the while, Claire continued to talk to her caller.

_"It's comforting to believe someone is still out there, pulling for us. Someone who's on our side."_

"Bye, Roger. See you same time here tomorrow."

A waitress in a cafe placed her regular customer's bill down on the table and walked away, offering him a smile.

Seated at a table nearby, Trevor waited.

He watched as Roger paid for his bill, leaving his money on the table and starting to get up. The waitress glanced back at him from the counter, and he smiled back at her, a warm look on his face as he turned and exited the small cafe, walking away outside.

Trevor's eyes locked on the waitress, waiting.

Claire continued.

_"A patron saint, looking out for us, and secretly helping us along the way."_

Seeing the waitress distracted for a moment before she came back to the table, Trevor darted his hands forward and dropped a single long stemmed rose from under his jacket down onto the waitresses tip.

_"Someone who actually WANTS us to find love."_

Trevor pulled innocently back when the waitress finally turned and walked up to the table. The woman paused, ignoring the money, but slowly picking up the rose left for her on the table. With an amazed look, she turned her eyes towards the door where Roger had left. With a smile that lit her face, she lifted the rose to her nose and turned away.

Trevor smiled as Claire's voice spoke out.

_"The hard truth is that Trevor's gone. But still... I like to believe he's alive. Alive in the hearts of everyone he helped get through love's pitfalls and minefields. Alive in the hearts of everyone he nudged forward past their fears. Everyone he touched..."_

In her broadcast studio, Claire was still staring straight ahead, her eyes glinting happily, thoughtful, smiling. "He's still alive for everyone who loves him. And that includes me."

Trevor was outside, waiting on a platform for an elevated train, next to a man who seemed impatient to get on. Both of them stood next to each other in the cold night air, trying to stay warm. Trevor looked at the man and tried to start up a conversation.

"Cold night, huh?"

The man seemed disinterested. "I suppose."

Stomping from foot to foot, Trevor nodded down the platform, his breath misting. "So... she's cute, huh?"

Growing annoyed, the man checked his watch. "Yeah, I suppose..."

Trevor nodded. "Maybe you should go over. Say hello."

Having had enough, the man turned angrily towards him. "What? Wait. Who are you?"

Realizing he had pushed too far, Trevor stepped off, backing away. "I'm nobody, man. I'm nobody."

Trevor walked off into the distance, going down the steps and leaving the man behind as the elevated train finally pulled up.

A caller's voice still overlapped him as Trevor left the train platform.

_"Mrs. Allen, since I lost her, lost everything... I just feel... like I don't know who I am anymore." _

  
The windows at Taggerty's were glowing brightly out into the night, shining down onto the sidewalk as Claire's vice answered. 

_"Well, Michael, sometimes it's easy for people to lose themselves. Forget who they are."_

A line of people was waiting to get inside, Trevor walking beside them. The door bounder checking ID's at the front of the line was different, Champ not working there anymore. Trevor averted his gaze and kept going. Moving past the front door, he continued down the sidewalk, walking along Taggerty's wide windows. But then he paused, and turned to step closer, looking into the interior, his face bathed from the lights from inside. He saw people everywhere, crowded as usual, laughing, dancing, enjoying themselves. Suddenly Trevor couldn't help but feel the pull to be inside instead of standing outside in the cold.

Somewhere in the distance, Claire continued to speak.

"But you can't find yourself again by just trying to live in the past. Because trying only to recreate something that's finished, some place in your life that's gone... it usually just leads to disappointment. Yet it's something we all know. But that doesn't make letting go any easier."

Another voice spoke out, far closer to Trevor.

"Sir, can I help you?"

Calling out from over by the front of the waiting line, the voice of the Taggerty's bouncer seemed gruff as he addressed him, watching him with an unfriendly stare as he hovered there by the windows. Trevor shook his head, and continued walking down the sidewalk, not looking back again.

Seated inside her studio several minutes later, Claire finished with her caller. "Thank you Michael. Have a nice night."

"Thank you, Dr. Allen."

Claire pushed her notes aside, getting ready for the next call. her voice became lighter as she leaned forward and transferred to the next light on her board. "Ok... Moving on to our next caller... our next caller's name is... Bob. He says he's been having intimacy issues. Ok, Bob. You're on the air. What's your question."

A British voice came through her headphones.

"_Well, Doctor. I've been having problems with self appreciation. So that's why I called. I need help lighting the spark in my love life. And I have to admit, lately I keep having trouble."_

She blinked, listening. "Trouble? What kind of trouble?"

_"Trouble picturing you naked. So if you could tell me exactly what you're wearing right now, it would really help improve my self 'appreciation' so I can--"_

Claire instantly disconnected the call, shaking her head and ignoring it. "Ok, moving onto our next caller--"

Hanging up the exterior pay phone, Trevor smiled triumphantly, still ignoring the identifiable cell phone in his pocket. With a grin he stepped back and moved off down the sidewalk again.

The music still played from some unseen source.

_And when I go there, I go there with you..._

In the studio, Claire continued her show.

"From the calls we've taken, I'm starting to see a pattern emerging tonight. In a relationship, love can't be about losing yourself. In the end, real love, true love is about being with someone who helps you find yourself."

_It's all I can do..._

Somberly Trevor walked forward as the music, filled with a fast repeating guitar, began to fade away, finally going silent. Above him, the dark night sky seemed open, less cluttered as he stepped slowly across the grass. In the dim light a large block of polished marble suddenly slid past him as he walked, followed by the shadowy form of another on the other side, and then two more, all of different designs. Trevor didn't notice, his eyes fixed ahead. He was walking through a cemetery, walking all alone in the night. His eyes were staring at one tombstone in the distance, watching it as it slowly came closer and closer. Finally he stopped before it, wondering why he had come here. His eyes were sad beneath his hood as he looked down, not knowing what to say. He read the words inscribed there.

TREVOR HALE.  
CUPID.  
THE GOD OF LOVE.

Sighing, Trevor pulled the hood of his head, and put his hands in his pockets as he looked at it. He really didn't know why he had come. It felt surreal to be standing over his own grave. But this was him now. To the rest of the world, this was all that was left of him, a forgotten tombstone of a crazy man's burial site, delusion even in death. As Trevor stood there, he looked away, feeling empty inside.

And then he heard footsteps.

Trevor looked all around when he heard, surprised anyone would be there at that time of night, turning in place on the grass as he searched for the source of the sound. Then he saw a dark figure, stumbling, weaving slowly back and forth between the tombstones, coming slowly towards him in the dark of the night.

Freezing for a second, Trevor wondered what to do. But the figure didn't seem to have seen him yet. Trevor quickly backed away from his grave marker, lifting his hood over his head again and slipping further into the shadows of the cemetery, before finally ducking behind the tombstones. Inside he knew he should leave, get out while he could, but he was curious about the figure. Stopping behind a tall pillar shaped grave marker he pressed against it, concealed as he looked back around its side, the marble cold under his fingers. Quietly he watched the stumbling shape.

The dark figure was closer now, resolving into the shape of a man, barely visible in the darkness. The man was still stumbling left and right, unsure of his balance and having trouble staying on his feet. After a few moments, the reason why was obvious. A large, half empty bottle of alcohol glinted in his hand off a distant light. Occasionally the man lifted it up, taking another drink as he stumbled deliberately forward towards Trevor's grave. Finally he momentarily regained his balance and stopped before it as Trevor watched from his hiding place.

Then, inexplicably, the man fell to his knees before the grave marker, weeping uncontrollably. Surprised, Trevor could barely make out the words coming through the man's sobbing.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... I could have saved you... I could have saved--"

His voice breaking, the man's head dropped, his sobs the only sound, echoing over the tombstones. Trevor watched for several moments, uncertain., Then he couldn't stop himself any longer, feeling the pull to go over and see if the man was all right. Making sure his hood was up, he slowly began to approach the sobbing figure, trying to stay in the shadows. Trevor didn't know what was happening or who the man was, but he was clearly suffering. Despite the risks, Trevor wanted to help.

"Hey."

Trevor stepped slowly closer, calling softly over to him, cautiously extending a hand out, trying not to startle him. "Hey, it's okay man. You'll be okay."

In a daze, the sobbing figure lifted his head as he knelt on the grass and looked over at him, tears glinting on his cheeks from the distant light. He was fairly young, but his face looked older than his years, puffy and desperate looking with two days of beard on his face. A smell wafted from him. The man was drunk and had obviously been crying long before coming to Trevor's grave. Finally he spoke.

"Who... who are..." he said softly, his voice weak.

"Doesn't matter." Trevor smiled, shaking his head , coming closer. Reaching out, he helped the man to his feet, patting him reassuringly on the back. "Doesn't matter who I am. What does matter is that what ever this is that's happening to you, you'll get through this."

Now standing beside him, the man didn't turn, instead still looking sadly down at Trevor's grave "I really don't know if I will."

Trevor did his best to keep his face hidden under his hood, still trying to console him. "Hey, it's never to late to change things."

The man still looked forward. "Can you change the past? Can you undo something that can't be undone?"

Trevor blinked, not understanding. The man was still watching his grave. Trevor nodded towards it. "Why are you out here? Did you... did you know this guy?"

"No. We never really met. But it's my fault that he's dead." The man took another drink from his bottle.

"Your fault?"

"My fault. I was supposed to have saved him. I could have saved--"

As he spoke, the man turned his head to glance casually at him, and without thinking Trevor turned his head towards him too. Suddenly the man's eyes went wide with shock when he saw Trevor's face underneath his hood. Stunned, his expression emptied, stumbling drunkenly away from him. Falling down as Trevor tried to help, the man scrambled back to his feet and backed further away from Trevor like he was some sort of monster, but still not able to take his eyes from him.

Seeing the situation getting out of control, Trevor looked into the shocked man's face and it suddenly hit him. He remembered the man's voice, calling to him. Trevor's face froze with the revelation, sensing the clarity one feels when they know with absolute certainty that they have reached the point of no return.

His eyes, fixed on Trevor's, the man could barely speak through his shock, his words jumbled. "The rain... the cliff... I was supposed to talk you down from... I was the... I... I..."

The man gasped, not knowing what was happening.

"I... I watched you die."

_TO BE CONTINUED... _


	2. Chapter 2

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The silent moment seemed frozen between the two men as they watched each other, standing over Trevor's grave.

Trevor looked at the man, motionless.

The man looked at Trevor.

And then with a jolt he began to run.

Trevor watched in horror as the man sped away. "Wait! You don't--"

The man was drawing further away, stumbling and frantic as he fled through the tombstones, screaming incoherently in a high pitched, delirious panic.

Trevor started chasing after him, calling out. "Hey you can't tell anyone about--"

The man was still pulling further away. Trevor cursed and rushed faster after him, the world seeming to bouncy and blur in his eyes as he started to come in close behind. Finally he dove forward towards the sight of the man's moving back before him, tackling him to the ground and feeling a painful thud in his stomach.

"Ooh, that's gonna hurt..." Trevor moaned in self pity.

Underneath him the man was kicking, clawing and squirming, putting up a fight as Trevor held him down on the icy grass.

"Get... get off me you damn ghost! " The man paused, considering the situation. "Wait... Ghosts can't tackle people, can they?"

Trevor sighed, holding him down. "Not a ghost, man."

"Yeah." Realization started to dawn across the drunken man's face. "Yeah. You're a lot heavier. And you're kinda crushing me."

"Sorry. And... hey!" Trevor sounded offended as he got off him.

"Just saying." The man shrugged as he brushed himself off and rose to his feet unsteadily. "Seems maybe you've put on a few pounds."

"Well, I've been stuck inside."

"Hmm." The man nodded. "A coffin?"

"My house."

"Oh. And... why aren't you dead?

"Well..." Trevor seemed embarrassed, "...haven't really gotten around to it, yet. Not on my 'to do' list. I'm a god. Immortal."

"Oh good," the man walked slowly forward. "Cause of the two of us, for awhile there I thought I was the crazy one."

Continuing, he decided to rest against a tombstone as Trevor followed at his side.

Suddenly the man paused, a sober realization dawning on his face. "Wait... you REALLY aren't dead."

Trevor nodded impatiently. "Really, really not. Thought we covered that. Look, I need you not tell anyone about me being ali--"

Starting to look away, Trevor was unexpectedly punched hard across the chin by the man without any warning, knocked back off his feet and onto the grass, the seething figure of the man stepping forward and looming over him, yelling out.

"Do you know the hell you've put me through?!"

Shaking his head to clear it, Trevor looked up, considering him for several seconds as he rubbed his throbbing chin.

"Fair enough," he finally said. "Feel like getting some coffee?"

Surprised, the man blinked, not expecting that at all. After a long moment of confusion, he finally reached down, offering his hand and helping Trevor to his feet.

Trevor smiled at him, and the two of them started to walk away through the field of tombstones, the cemetery dark all around.

"Hi. I'm Cupid," Trevor whispered softly.

The man looked over. "Rick."

"Come on, Rick. It's freezing out here."

The well lit interior of the downtown diner was bright against the darkness of the busy Chicago street seen through the windows looking outside. Inside people moved back and forth, ordering, eating, utensils clicking on flatware. Seated inconspicuously at one of the tables was Trevor and the man he had found, the two of them over two cups of coffee and trying to warm up. Trevor watched Rick with interest as the disheveled man continued to tell his story, explaining why he had been at Trevor's grave in the middle of the night.

"So I was lost, direction less... " Rick looked over at Trevor, an empty sadness in his eyes. "You may have been the one who jumped, Trevor. But I'm the one who fell. When me and the other officers cornered you on that cliff, I was on point. I was the one who was trained to talk to jumpers. So when you went over the edge... I took it pretty hard. Never lost anyone before. When you fell off that cliff, I felt I was watching you die right before my eyes. When I was certain I could save you."

Across the table, Trevor's eyes dropped, starting to quietly realize how much his leap had affected those around him.

Rick was looking at nothing now, remembering. "After that, I quit the force .Your death pretty much shattered me. For awhile, the only person I connected with was a female paramedic. She was there, at the scene. At the cliff. Helped treat Mrs. Allen. We dated for a few months. But then... I lost her. Lost yet another person, all over again."

Trevor nodded, watching him, sympathy in his voice. "Hey I understand, man. And this may be an obvious question, but... did you look for her the last place you saw her?"

Smiling, Trevor watched and saw his attempt at levity fall on deaf ears. Rick simply stared at him, his gaze desolate under the bright diner lights.

"She left me, Trevor. I was in a downward spiral and I knew it. I was rudderless, drifting, lost. Guess my life became too dark for her. So I... she moved away. Left the coast, came back home to Chicago. And... against my better judgment, I followed her."

Trevor looked at Rick, his gaze pleased at Rick's initiative as patrons passed behind him. "Good for you, man. Most good things happen because someone goes against their better judgment."

For the first time. Rick smiled at Trevor too. He shrugged. "Been out here searching for two months. Trying to find anything that might help me. And I've been drinking ever since. Walking the streets. Now it's February 1st, and I decided to go back to where my fall really started. I had heard it was here somewhere. I decided to see your grave."

Out of nowhere, Rick paused, looking at him as if finally realizing who he was talking to. "And... why aren't you dead, again?"

Trevor grinned proudly. "Immortal. I'm a god, you see."

Rick turned his head slightly, giving him a dubious squint. "Right..."

Trevor didn't notice. "Long story. I was first banished here from Olympus to set up a hundred couples and earn my way back. A string of beads keeps my count. But then, I jumped off a cliff, tested my immortality, disappeared, went home early, now I'm back and here with Claire, the woman I'm in love with."

Rick still seemed skeptical. "Uhh-huh. And the hundred couples thing, that still apply?"

Trevor nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. "Absolutely. It's why I want to help you, man."

Suddenly Rick thought of something. "But won't you still be forced to go back if you hit the century mark? Doesn't that still apply too?"

For a moment, Trevor shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable.

"Umm, not really important." He looked over at Rick, impressed. "Wow... most people are usually just awed by the entire God of Love part."

Rick chuckled good-naturedly. "Somehow I really doubt it. So let me get this straight..."

Trevor leaned eagerly forward. "Fire away."

"You set people up." For a millisecond, it seemed there was a twinkle of hope in Rick's eyes.

"Right." Trevor answered.

"With their true loves."

"Wow..." Trevor blinked at him, giving him the once over and framing him in his hands. "It's like I'm looking in the mirror, man. Except I always thought I was MUCH hotter than this. With less of that alcohol and vomit smell..."

Thinking, Rick ignored him. "But nobody knows you're alive."

Trevor shrugged. "Well..."

Rick stared straight at him, rubbing the stubble on his scraggily chin as he considered it. "How can you do your job if nobody knows you're alive?"

"I've helped you humans for thousands of years, and most of THEM didn't know I was alive." Trevor looked away. "Besides, after that shooting incident last time I was in Chicago, there still may be some legal issues about--"

"I don't think that's why." Rick interrupted simply.

An awkward, unspoken question passed between the two men in the silence that followed. The sounds of forks, plates and conversations from the rest of the patrons in the diner were the only things that were heard.

Finally, Trevor spoke, answering him.  
"It's complicated." The words sounded hollow even in his own ears.

Slowly Rick nodded. "Complicated. Right. I see."

"See what?"

"Nothing."

"What do you see?"

Keeping his gaze locked on his, Rick didn't look away. "I see a scared man, Trevor. I see a fake grave where the world thinks that some delusional man who believed he was Cupid is buried. And he's not. A fake grave on a fake history of a fake life."

"Hey!" Trevor snapped back, offended. "I'm still Cupid."

"Which part? The hiding part or the everyone thinks you're dead part?"

Trevor shook his head. "You don't understand. I just have to be more discreet now."

Rick laughed. "Doesn't seem very honest. For an immortal and and god, I mean. You. Immortal. You. Yeah, right. I don't know how you survived that fall, Trevor. But immortality? Sorry... from here I don't see it."

"I didn't fall. I flew. I am Cupid. And... I'll prove it to you. Tell me. You and your girl. I'll show you. I'll help you get back together."

Rick scoffed. "How? By hiding in the day then anonymously roaming the night like some sort of secret shadow Cupid?"

Nodding, Trevor smiled, liking the image. "Sounds pretty cool the way you say it."

"I'm not following the advice of some guy who flitters around the streets at night like some sort of vampire."

"Well... maybe a LOVE vampire. But believe me. Whatever it takes man. I can do it. It will happen. I can get you two back together."

Rick blinked at his certainty. "You serious?"

"oh, 'I' serious. I have resources, man." Not bothered by Rick's obvious skepticism, Trevor non-chalantly looked down and took a sip of his coffee.

Rick turned his gaze and looked out the window behind Trevor.

Trevor pressed further. "Tell me where she is and I'll point one of my love minions right at her. Before you know it, headboards will fall, bedsprings will rise, and the two of you will be hot and heavy in some apartment or dressing room or confessional booth as you eat Jell-O shots off of her--"

Still looking past Trevor and out the window, Rick wasn't really listening. His words were soft as he interrupted, almost as if talking to himself.

"Sun's coming up."

Turning around, Trevor looked through the glass over his shoulder and to the street outside. His jaw dropped as he saw how bright the sky had become. Fear in his eyes, he looked down at his watch.

"Oh crap..." he said softly, stunned.

It was the same hallway at the same radio studio. But this time Claire walking it in the reverse direction, carrying her purse and putting on her coat as the hallway walls slid by either shoulder. People passed her occasionally, coming out of offices or store rooms, walking the opposite direction. One spoke to her as Claire left work.

"Goodbye, Mrs. Allen. Good show tonight."

Claire smiled politely. "Thanks. See you tomorrow."

Finally the front door was sliding towards her, and she opened it to step into the dim, early morning light, ready for her commute. Eager to be back home, she headed for her car across the parking lot, looking up at the same brightening sky Trevor had seen through the diner window. Pointing her keys at the car, she triggered her remote lock, the car clicking and flashing its headlights before she opened the driver's side door and got in, sitting down and fastening her seat belt.

At that moment inside the diner downtown, Trevor was freaking out.

He stood up, still panicking, moving one way then the other like a cornered animal in approaching car headlights, trying to decide which way to go. "Look, I really gotta go. I'm outta time! You have my cell phone number, no time to explain! Stop asking questions! You have my number I gotta go! You do have my number, right?"

Rick, who had said nothing at all, seemed confused by Trevor's sudden change in demeanor. "Yeah. I got it, Trevor. But where are you--"

Trevor ducked away. "No time! Gonna get you and your girl back together! You just watch!" As he moved further away from the table and towards the door, he motioned a 'call me' sign and stormed out of the diner in a frantic rush, every person in the room watching him, like a tornado had just passed.

Rick watched through the diner windows in amazement. Once Trevor darted into the light, he cringed, ducking low and holding his hood over his head to ward off the brightness like a vampire caught in sunlight, as he ran past the window, obviously playing off of what Rick had called him.

As the commotion died down in the cafe, Rick paused, turning away from the window and looking down at the small slip of paper with Trevor's cell number scribbled on it, turning it in his fingers. He spoke softly to himself, considering.

"God of love..."

Across the city, inside Claire Allen's home, Ian Frechette stood anxiously by her large living room window, looking out, waiting, watching. His eyes searched the street and driveway outside, worry etched in his every feature as he saw the sky above brighten even further. There was still no sign of Trevor. The bearded man sighed, worried that time was slipping away, watching the way Trevor had gone last night.

Suddenly, a slender, pale hand gently touched his shoulder from behind. Frechette turned at the sensation to see Faith standing there with him. For a moment he watched her in wonder, amazed by how beautiful she was. Her blond hair cascaded down her face to either side of dazzling blue eyes that looked serenely at him. But then as he watched her, a genuine concern returned to Frechette's face. He looked back out the window, thinking of Trevor, of him out there all alone. After a moment he gratefully placed his hand over hers on his shoulder without turning towards her.

"It will be full daylight soon," he said softly, still searching. "Where is he? He's never this late."

Standing behind him, Faith seemed to feel the tension in his shoulder. "You're really worried, aren't you?"

He didn't turn. "If Trevor gets caught..."

Stepping closer to his back, Faith gently reached her arms forward, hugging him from behind.

"Don't worry, Ian. He'll be fine."

For a long moment, Frechette paused as he faced the glass. When he spoke, his words were soft, desperate.

"He has to be..."

Frechette kept looking out the window, searching. Behind him, Faith's head dropped as she held him, resting on his back.

"Ian... do you think Trevor's right?

"About what?" He kept his gaze outside.

"You... Needing someone."

"What? I don't need..."

"You sure?"

Frechette still hadn't turned. "Well... of course, I'm... Yes. I'm sure. I have you in my life."

"We can't touch."

"We touch."

Faith paused, her face sad against his back. "We can't dance..."

"What?"

"We can't dance. Not really dance."

Frechette didn't understand. "That's not true. You know that."

Faith continued, her eyes glittering with moisture. "We can't really dance because of what I am. No one else sees me. What if... what if I'm really just all in your head."

"Bliss saw you tonight."

"Bliss likes you, Ian. And kids love imaginary friends. Maybe she's just playing along."

Frechette finally turned towards her, his face serious.

"She looked right at you, Faith. I saw it."

She couldn't keep the sadness from her eyes. "Maybe... Or maybe your mind put me where she looked."

Blinking, Frechette seemed uncertain. "No that's... I don't... You don't believe that, do you?"

"I feel real to myself," Faith looked down at her hands in thought, turning them slowly. "But what if those feelings are yours and not my own?"

Stepping closer, with Trevor's living room quiet around them, he took her hands into his own and looked into her eyes. "Faith, do you care for me?"

"Of course."

He smiled, squeezing her hands. "Then that's all that matters."

Turning back around, his eyes started looking for Trevor through the window again, watching the brightness grow on the street outside like he had been doing for hours. From behind him, Faith reached out and embraced him a second time, her head still falling sadly onto his back.

"I do care for you, Ian... Enough to wonder if Trevor's right."

"That's ridiculous--"

Several things happened nearly at once.

With a soft squeal of tires, Claire's car pulled up in the driveway just as he turned around to see Faith and found only empty space. Spinning his head back around to look outside, Frechette's eyes widened as he saw her vehicle come to a stop. He was trapped in her home. Then a loud bang cracked from the living room behind him. He turned towards that noise just to in time to see that one of the side windows had just been slammed up, opened. And with something large coming through. Trevor was already tumbling through the window, covered in twigs and icy dry leaves from the thick shrub just outside. Behind, the branches below the window ledge were still swirling. Outside on the street, Claire got out of her car and started walking towards the house.

Speechless, Frechette was frozen in place as Trevor wildly regained his feet and scrambled over to the living room window, looking outside, out of breath, his face covered in red twig scratches.

"This one's gonna be close..." he said, eyes locked on Claire as she walked past the car headlights and onto the entrance sidewalk, maybe a dozen feet from the door.

Feeling a debilitating panic, Frechette's eyes widened even more as she got closer, choking his words as they stumbled out. "Trevor, I--, wha--, where--"

Watching Claire too, Trevor wasn't really listening, seeing her closer than before, almost to the front door, and verbalizing it accordingly.

"Oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap crap crap crap!"

"Trevor, we're caught! It's over! It's all o--"

Frechette's words were cut off as Trevor suddenly yanked him down and out of sight of the window, ducking him down like he was now. Her footsteps just outside, Claire's shadow flashed across the glass, heading to the front door. Trevor darted past Frechette, ducking low and quickly searching for something in the drawer of a small nearby end table, fumbling frantically through the objects inside.

"Trevor!" Beside him, Frechette ducked down even lower, speaking in a loud whisper. "She's almost inside! We'll get caught! She's--"  
Curious, Frechette paused as he watched Trevor, his next words more normal. "What are you looking for?"

Finally, Trevor found what he was looking for and held it up triumphantly.

Frechette blinked. "Car keys?"

Lifting one arm up over the edge of the living room window like a periscope, Trevor tried to vaguely guess the direction where Claire's car was. In the hallway beside them, Claire's house keys were already clinking softly in the lock of the house's front door. Aiming desperately, Trevor pushed the car's unlock remote several times in quick succession.

Outside on the front doorstep, Claire paused when she saw her car headlights flashed on and off out of the corner of her eye, hearing the small musical chirp as the car unlocked behind her. Leaning back for a clearer view, she looked directly at her car as it honked once, the doors locking again, then chirped and flashed another time as it unlocked once more. With a sigh she grabbed her ring of keys from the front door and started walking back, finding her car key remote as she walked past the living room window.

Inside the house, as Claire's shadow passed over the glass again, Trevor started pushing Frechette deeper into the living room, away from where they could be seen.

"Go, go, go!" He whispered fiercely, like he was guiding them through an enemy jungle. Keeping low and out of sight of the window, Trevor scrambled Frechette across the living room, both of their knees uncomfortably hitting their chests as they moved. Frechette tried to catch his breath in the constricted position, crouched so low that every step forward threatened to spill him flat on his face. But however rough it was, Trevor pushed him even faster.

"Go, go go!"

Voice full of panic now, Frechette looked back at him. "Go? Go where, Trevor?"

Outside, Claire's car honked as she locked it again. Not stopping their progress, Trevor raised his arm and aimed wildly with his car remote, looking pleased with the sound of another chirp as it unlocked again. He rushed Frechette further away, until the older psychologist finally did lose balance and fall on his face.

Exasperated by what was happening to her, Claire stood outside, next to her car's front bumper. She glared at it for several moments, before she decided to try again, angrily lifting her car remote in two hands and pointing it like a gun. Taking aim and finally clicking, she watched as the car's parking lights flashed and the car horn honked beyond her hands, the vehicle locking again. Everything seemed fine. But then another chirp and flashing headlights as for no reason it unlocked. And then the trunk popped open behind.

Claire sighed, walking back towards the house door. "I give up..."

Inside, Trevor and Frechette stopped near a wall.

"Trevor, where are we going? How am I going to get out before comes right in the--"

Looking around he saw that he had been lead to the open window Trevor had tumbled through earlier. Frechette's eyes widened, both of them standing up.

"No, Trevor! You can't be serious!"

"No time to argue, proxy man! She walking back here right now. Get in there!" Trevor grabbed the larger man's shoulder and tried to wedge him through as he resisted.

"Umm..." Looking over at him, Frechette saw there was still twigs and leaves all over Trevor's coat, and several red scratches on his face too where he had crawled through the shrub earlier. "Trevor, there's still branches stuck to your--"

"Into the garbage chute flyboy! I don't care what you smell!" Forcefully, Trevor shoved Frechette out the window and sent him tumbling out of view with a thud.

Outside on the front doorstep, Claire paused, looking up and twisting her lower lip, thinking. Without turning around, she lifted her keys over her shoulder and aimed impulsively at her car behind her, clicking one last time. There was a honk as her car locked, and nothing after that. With a smile she switched to her house key and put it in the lock in the front door.

Inside, Trevor slammed the side window shut, just as he heard Claire's keys unlocking the door at the other end of the entry hall. He turned and ran straight up the nearby stairs, aiming wildly with his car remote, clicking away and no longer caring if it worked or not. Still dressed like he had just gone out, he disappeared out of sight just as the front door opened and Claire stepped in.

Upstairs, Trevor rushed into the bedroom, looking around, ignoring the fact that his body and head was sprinkled with occasional dried twigs and leaves from his crawl. Claire's footsteps were on the stairs. She was coming up to check on him. The bed was still made, he was supposed to be asleep. Trevor turned quickly in place, wondering what to do. He stumbled on one foot, taking off his shoes, pulling off his coat and his hood, throwing them to the far side of the bed. Her steps were louder, walking down the hall. Without thinking, Trevor threw himself face forward on the bed, going motionless, before he started a loud, fake snore.

A moment later, Claire gently opened the door and looked in.

She saw Trevor lying on the bed, quietly asleep, not having bothered to changed for the night. He looked completely out of it. Smiling, she closed the door with a soft sigh. Alone in the hallway, she paused, thinking. Was that a twig she had just seen stuck in Trevor's hair? She reached for the doorknob again.

Inside, Trevor cracked open an eye the moment she had closed the door. But then he started blinking uncomfortably, something digging into his skull. He batted it wildly away behind the bed, before his head dropped back down and he started loudly snoring again as Claire opened the bedroom door a second time.

Claire looked at Trevor again, asleep on the bed. He was in he exact same position, snoring away, and there wasn't a branch in sight. Twisting her lips, Claire considered what she thought she had seen, confused.

"Weird..." she said softly to herself, finally closing the door.

On the bed inside, Trevor finally sighed, knowing he was in the clear. "That really _was_ close."

Claire walked quietly down the upstairs hallway and checked in on Bliss, knowing she was never awake at this hour, unlike Trevor. Cracking open the bedroom door, she saw the little girl was still sleeping. She looked like an angel, and Claire's heart lifted, full of love for her and Trevor's amazing little angel of joy. After a moment, she tenderly blew her daughter a kiss, before closing the door and heading downstairs.

She came down the steps, slipping her coat off and putting her keys down on the end table in the living room. Tired, she stretched her neck, rubbing it softly before she paused, going motionless when she saw something.

With a sigh, Claire walked slowly over. She moved towards the living room window, where the taped outline of a heart had been placed onto the glass. Without any sense of surprise, she reached over and turned on the small golden table lamp, watching as it glowed red onto the glass.

Slowly, Claire exhaled. "Ian..."

Like she had done it several times before, Claire carefully removed the tape from the glass. She unscrewed the light bulb and replaced it with the normal one. Finding Trevor's greek cigar box full of couple set up notes on the dining room table, she carried it and the red bulb over to his 'secret' spot on the wooden pillar, which seemed closed and unnoticeable. Hitting it expertly in an exact, certain way, Claire carefully placed the box and the light bulb in the compartment, closing it gently until the pillar's base looked smooth and uninterrupted again.

Claire looked over at the living room glass where the heart had been taped, its outline now gone. She spoke softly to herself, staring at the empty glass.

"Trevor has to come to his senses and stop doing this. I really hope this will be the last time..."

Walking away, she headed for the kitchen to eat, leaving everything motionless behind.

The living room was empty.

Outside, it seemed the day shifted quickly, fading into shadows, the sun's angle rising then falling again, cars and people passing by in a blur, until shadows started covering the scene outside.

And slowly, fading into view on the glass, the taped outline of a heart appeared the next night, bathed in the glow of the upturned table lamp.

Frechette was standing next to the dining room table again, Claire off at work again. He was seething as he faced Trevor, completely furious.

"Trevor!" he said angrily, "This is what in the psychiatric field is called NOT keeping a secret!"

Trevor shrugged, not understanding. "What?!"

Frechette nodded to Trevor's side.

Rick was standing there next to him, hands in his pockets, looking bored.

Frechette glared at him. "Trevor, he's not supposed to be here!"

Trevor tried to calm Frechette down "It's okay, proxy man. Rick's going to help us. Another love minion in the war of love!"

Not wanting to her any of it, Frechette shook his head. "Trevor, he can't stay!"

With a yawn, Rick nodded, already turing away. "Ok. I'll be going then."

Darting over, Trevor calmly grabbed Rick by the shoulders and turned him around. He looked at Frechette as he guided him back. "Rick knows about us. If he leaves, he's becomes a liability. But if he stays, he becomes something far safer. He becomes an accessory."

Frechette looked down, his jaw hardening. Sarcasm dripped from his voice.

"What's he going to do? Serve cookies? Keep the minutes of the group?" Frechette lifted a notebook and shook it angrily at him, his other free hand pushing a plate forward on the table. "I've already done that!"

Curious, Rick leaned forward and looked at the notebook Frechette put back down, seeing it filled with detailed notes of past meetings. He looked at Frechette coldly.

"You keep notes?"

"Yes."

"For this?" Rick nodded towards the empty room.

Frechette glared at him. "Of course I do."

Rick stared for a long, silent moment, his face an empty expression. "Ok, I'm outta here."

Trevor stopped him again, rubbing crumbs off his lips from the cookie he had eaten from the plate on the table, before handing Rick a cookie and patting him on the back to keep him in place.

Rick looked at the cookie in his hand, blinking before lifting his eyes to Frechette again. "So... what is all this? Why are you here?"

"I'm here to help Cupid, the god of love, through his mission on earth."

Rick paused, uncertain how to respond. "Seriously?"

Frechette gazed steadily at him, certain. "Without a doubt."

Trevor stepped in. "Look, 'chetty. I want Rick here. And I need you to help him with this. So I have a mission for you."

Frechette instantly had his pen and notepad out and in hand, waiting. "Yes. Tell me, master Cupid."

Rick's eyes froze, before looking over at Trevor. Trevor lowered his gaze, uncomfortable.

"Please don't call me that."

Frechette seemed chastised, but said nothing.

"Rick here, has lost his girl. He needs to get her back. And he needs your help to do it."

Nodding, Frechette started taking notes. "I am at your service, Mast--" He paused, correcting himself. "... god of love."

Something about that was finally too much, and Rick shook his head, having heard enough. "That's it! I'm outta here."

Trevor looked back and forth between the two men quickly as Rick started to leave. "What? Why!"

Rick turned, speaking to Trevor but jerking his head towards Frechette. "He's as nutty as you are. I don't want any part of this little... circle of insanity in the world."

Trevor spread his arms. "What insanity?"

Frechette's mouth wrinkled in utter frustration. "I can't work with this, Master Cupid! He's not even a believer in your immortal divinity."

Exasperated himself, Rick pointed over at him. "That insanity! Goodbye, Trevor."

"Rick, wait. Wait!"

"Wait for what? To think I agonized over you dying. Over me not saving you. Instead you're just some delusional man with his delusional follower. I don't know who's crazier, you or him. I mean look at you! Skulking in the shadows, clandestine secret meetings, your only self worth is the absurd thought that the world is somehow out to get you. I can't do this, Trevor!"

Frechette nodded. "Then go, you non-beliving, beer swilling, hygiene challenged heretic!"

Trevor tried to get things back on track, looking over. "You can't do what, Rick?"

"This. Any of this. Trevor, my life is a train wreck as it is. I don't need to get involved in your own personal crash and burn here."

"Look man, I need your help. Can I talk to you privately for a second?"

Rick blinked. "What?"

Trevor nodded. "It'll only take a second. Totally up to you. Your call, man. Come on." Trevor started guiding Rick away like he had already agreed even though he had said nothing. "See, you're a good egg, Ricky boy. Let's go."

As he guided Rick into the hallway, Trevor looked over to see Frechette packing his things and getting ready to leave as well.

"Frechette, what are you doing man?"

"I'm leaving, Trevor. I don't need this kind of abuse from some wasted wash-out who's not even willing to believe. Or care about what we're doing."

Trevor darted back over to him, pulling Frechette to the opposite corner of the dining room. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Whispering, Frechette's leaned angrily in. "Trevor what's the point of him here? If he doesn't believe, he can't help us!"

Trevor shook his head. "It's not about him helping us, it's about us helping him."

On the other side of the room, Trevor was suddenly talking privately to Rick, standing alone before him. "Rick, I have to be honest here. This isn't really about us helping you, it's about you helping Frechette."

Rick blinked, looking over at the man in the opposite corner. "Him?"

Standing with Trevor before him , Frechette looked over at Rick. "Him? Helping him?"

Trevor waved his hands. "Yes, 'him'. Look, I'll give him some absurd story that he's helping you out..."

Trevor was talking to Rick, away from Frechette. "I'll tell him that he's supposed to be helping you, he'll buy that, but it'll be the other way around."

Rick thought about it. "The other way around, huh?"

Trevor nodded at the confusion in Frechette's eyes as the two of them spoke again. "Believe me, proxy man, he won't have a clue."

Frechette blinked. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Trevor spoke conspiratorially to Rick. "It means you can never tell him that he's your real mission."

Uncertain, Rick sighed wearily. "Why can't you do this?"

"You've seen how he is." Trevor mimicked his body becoming all tense and contorted for a moment. "I'm glad for his help but Frechette's a little..."

"Crazy?"

Trevor smiled. "Over zealous."

Trevor kept moving back and forth between the two camps, moving one direction across the dining room, before eventually moving the other, repeating over and over in a zig zag. It all blended into a quick succession of images, always passing the dining table stationary in the center

Trevor was talking to Frechette again, nodding over to where Rick was standing across the room. "Do you want to help me or not? Do you believe in what we're doing? Helping couples, true love, all that?"

Frechette seemed more subdued. "Of course I do, but--"

"This... is THAT. We need to help him."

Rick examined Frechette from across the room, listening to Trevor standing before him. "I'll probably regret asking this, but how do you want me to help him?"

Trevor nodded. "Old 'chetty over there thinks he's secretly helping you. But you're secretly helping him. I need you to find a woman for him. The man needs to get laid!"

Rick sighed. "I do regret it."

Trevor continued. "You've seen how he is! All tense and on the verge. Because this is all he has! I need to mellow him down a bit, get him out of my hair. So what I'm asking you to do for him is to help him see that there are other things in life. Things of the feminine variety. Or in more poetic terms... I want you to get him some."

Frechette blinked at what Trevor had just told him, trying to be clear. "Rick? You want me to find Rick a match? Where? Bag lady?"

Trevor shook his head, his voice lower so Rick wouldn't hear. "Rick's already got the girl. I just need you to get them together again."

"It'll never work." Frechette scowled at Trevor. "In my work, I've seen his type before. Complete train wrecks. Inpatients waiting to happen."

Suddenly Frechette seemed introspective.

"I could always try thorax-B on him..."

"No!" Trevor said adamantly, as if talking to a puppy. "No! Bad doctor. How many times do I have to tell you. You can't find love through pharmaceuticals."

Frechette shook his head. "He's not looking for love, Trevor. He's looking for himself."

"Well, help him find his girl, and he'll be there too! His 'Self' is found, problem solved. I'll convince him that he's helping you with my beads, but extra super secretly, you'll be helping him. Beads gotta start moving here."

"Beads?" Rick blinked as he asked the question, he and Trevor alone on the other side of the room. "You mean that part's actually real?"

Scoffing, Trevor guided rick into the darkness of the living room and showed him the string of beads hanging there, most on one side, some on the other. "See those? That's why I'm here. That's my count. That's my mission."

"I thought you were here to be with the woman you love."

"Well, that too..."

Rick looked at the beads in the shadows, before giving Trevor a discerning glance out of the corner of his eye. "So... You never answered me before. The 100 beads thing. That still apply?"

Trevor seemed uncomfortable and chose to ignore it.

"Proxy McBeardy over there thinks he's secretly trying to get you your girl back. So he'll try to be clever and clandestine to keep the secret. But I still want you to help him. Keep your eyes open. Spot any prospects for him. Preferably with low standards. Or with low lighting."

Looking skeptical, Rick turned and faced Trevor, finally putting it all on the table, his words cold and uncaring "Why should do any of this, Trevor."

The light from the dining room was still falling on them in the dark. Trevor calmly stepped forward, looking into Rick's face with a serious glint. "Look at your life, man. You're a wreck. A mess. Even he knows it. You need to turn it around. And all that needs is a spark, a first step. Right here. Right now. You need to help someone to help yourself. To get your cajones back. Because love is the one, rare thing in the universe, man. When you give it, it gives back. Help Ian, you'll find your girl. And you'll find yourself. Doesn't make sense, but it's true. You do want her back, don't you?"

"Well..." Rick paused. "She's..."

"I can help you do that."

Finally, Rick nodded in agreement. "Of course I want her back. Right there with you, Trevor."

Nodding, Trevor still looked at him seriously. "Winning her back won't be easy. You're going to have to do some stupid things."

"Check."

"Reckless things."

"Ok."

"Things that scare you to death. Can you do that?"

For a moment, Rick paused, uncertain. "Yes... yes I can, Trevor."

Trevor was talking to Frechette again across the room, who was looking steely into his eyes. "Why should I help this man? A man who's not even willing to believe."

"Because it's what we do." With a smile, Trevor looked at Frechette, speaking with absolute asuredness, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It's what we do."

Frechette paused, thinking about that simple answer, before he seemed to accept it. "Yes... Yes, it is."

Trevor's voice grew louder, his words more animated, going into cheerleader mode. "So... you with me, proxy man?"

Frechette smiled at the image. "I'm with you."

"Wait, let me say it again. Are you with me?"

"I'm with you," Rick answered half heatedly, the two of them alone on the other side of the room.

With a pleased expression, Trevor spoke even louder. "I can't hear you! I said, ARE YOU WITH ME!"

Frechette smiled, buoyed by Trevor's energy as he spoke, a spark in the bearded man's eye. "I'm with you!"

"Right! That's what I'm talking about!" Trevor gave a downward twin closed fist thump of encouragement onto either of Frechette's shoulders. Frechette returned the motion, almost knocking Trevor down, surprisingly strong.

""Ok," Trevor nodded. "Let's go get em..."

He motioned Frechette back to the dining room table, before following behind him and pausing for a moment to silently wince at the hit Frechette had given him while no one was watching.

Standing in the doorway of the darkened living room, Rick looked at Trevor there with him, the two of them outlined against the light beyond. His words were calmer. "I'm with you, Trevor."

Trevor pushed him into the dining room. "Ok. Get into it."

Trevor guided Rick back over the table, where Frechette was already waiting.

"Ok..." Trevor finally addressed the two of them as one again, standing between them. "You both have cell phones, so I'll stay in contact with you from here at LOVE CENTRAL. Stay close. Stay in contact. Be afraid. Be very afraid. It's a love jungle out there, and it's time to eat. So grab an apron and dive in. We have until daylight when Claire gets back from work. But most of all, stay together! Hold hands if you like. You are each there to back up the other. See that guy next to you? That's your wing man. Let me check on Bliss for a second, then you guys are heading out."

Trevor left the dining room, heading upstairs and leaving Rick and Frechette alone in an awkward silence. They stood there motionless for several moments, each staring at the strange man before them. Suddenly they were less sure about the prospect without Trevor's exuberance in the room.

Leaning forward and placing his palms on the dining room table, Frechette exhaled deeply to steady himself, looking down. Suddenly a slender hand slid up across his shoulder, comforting him. Faith was there, looking up into his eyes. "It'll be okay, Ian."

Frechette turned to her gratefully. "Thank you. I know it will be."

With his head turned slightly, Rick watched Frechette suspiciously from across the room. Frechette seemed to talk to empty space, smiling at it and putting his hand up onto his own shoulder even though there was nothing there.

"Who are you talking to?" He asked dubiously.

Frechette looked uncomfortable again, turning away. "Umm... nobody."

After a moment, Frechette looked at Rick from across the dining room table, coldly evaluating him as they waited for Trevor, giving Rick a probing gaze. Finally he spoke.

"Trevor must really believe in you to bring you here. To break his secret."

Not intimidated by his stare, Rick simply shrugged, not knowing how to respond. "Umm... I guess so."

Frechette continued, his eyes not leaving him. "I just hope your worthy of all this attention from the god of love."

"Worthy?"

Frechette nodded. "It's a great honor."

Rick tried not to smile. "You... you're really into this, aren't you."

Frechette scowled and played innocent, not being very helpful. "I don't really know what you're talking about."

Suddenly Trevor came eagerly storming back into the room, a fire in his step as he gathered the two of them together, one in each arm and started guiding quickly to the door.

"Ok you two, get out there! Move it! Bliss is asleep and it's time for you two to grab some! _CARPE NOCTURNA_! So move it! We're burning moonlight here."

Standing by the front door, Trevor flipped it open like it was an airplane portal over a high drop, before moving to the side. With one hand he started shoving Rick and Frechette out of the house and onto the doorstep like they were paratroopers jumping out of a World War 2 movie, as his other hand repeatedly flicked the porch light on and off in a frantic rhythm.

"Go, go, go! You want to live forever?! Been there, done that! Go, go, go! Fly my love minions, fly!"

Stumbling out and confused, Rick and Frechette took a few steps onto the entry way, before the front door slammed shut and everything went quiet.

The porch light turned off, dropping everything into darkness.

Rick looked at Frechette. "Trevor told you to secretly help me while I secretly help you, right?"

Frechette nodded, not wanting to play games. "Exactly."

"Good. Always preferred the straight approach."

"Agreed." Frechette answered, feeling getting to the point was better as well.

After a moment, Rick sighed. "Let's get this over with."

Frechette shrugged not used to having a partner as he headed out. "How are we going to..."

"I have a car. I'll go get it."

As Rick walked away looking bored, Frechette followed more slowly before he stopped when he heard a voice behind him.

"Ian..."

Frechette turned around and saw Faith standing there in the shadows outside Claire's home. With a start, he realized something was different. She wasn't standing close to him, she was standing almost a dozen feet away. Confused, he called over.

"Faith? What are you doing?" Wanting to get closer, he took a step... and a chill went through him when he saw her subtly step back from him. Frechette paused, concerned.

"What's going on," he asked.

Faith lowered her gaze. "I've been thinking, Or maybe you've been thinking, I don't know. But I can't let things go on like everything's the same. With what Trevor said, what he wants for you. I feel... I feel I... have to ask you a question, Ian."

He stood rooted to where he was, facing her in the dark, looking at her pale and beautiful. But there was a sadness on her features. Swallowing, Frechette continued.

"Umm... what kind of question?"

Faith looked at him, and she paused, as if knowing it came down to this, almost afraid of his answer.

"Are you ashamed of me?"

He sputtered. "Faith, no I, of course not. Don't think that. It's just, well... people just wouldn't--"

"Ian..." Tears glittered in her eyes. "Do you see us, you and me, as a romantic couple?"

For a moment, Frechette was utterly speechless.

Finally he blinked, searching for words. His throat seemed to catch, like it was constricted. He stammered, trying to find something to say. "Well... I..."

Faith closed her eyes, a tear rolling down her cheek.

Frechette tried to step closer.

Another small step back by Faith.

"Ian... I think deep down you still think you might be crazy."

"Faith, no. I--"

"Deep down you still think I might not be real. But the worst part is... maybe I'm starting to think that too."

"Faith, never think that! You should never--"

She wasn't listening, tears in her eyes as she looked at him again. "Trevor is right, Ian. You do need someone in your life. All of your life. Someone at your side and not in in your head. Someone in photographs with you. Or at family gatherings. Walking down the sidewalk and seeing two shadows ahead instead of one. You need something... _real_."

"Faith, I don't care about that."

She turned away from him completely, her head low, and slowly she started to walk away.

"Find someone real, Ian. Someone you can love without shame. With who my question isn't even a question."

"Faith. Faith no, wait. Faith!"

He moved to follow her as she left, but then there was a screech of tires and the beams from two car headlights swept across the yard. The light passed over where Faith was as she left and instantly she was gone, the beams never touching her. Shocked, Frechette stopped.

From behind him came a car honk. Rick leaned his head out of the window of his rusty, dilapidated compact car, calling out.

"Hey, come on! Let's get going!"

Frechette looked at the empty space where Faith had disappeared, but there was only shadows there now. Feeling empty inside, he finally turned away, heading towards the glowing car headlights shining onto Claire's driveway.

_TO BE CONTINUED... _


	3. Chapter 3

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The cliff facing the ocean was still the same.

Moving slowly Rick stepped forward with the sunlight shining warmly on him as it fell out of a crystal clear blue sky. The wind coming off the water was calm. The air was warm. Beyond the drop, the Pacific ocean stretched smoothly to the horizon, wide and serene. As Rick moved further forward, he could feel the salty taste in the air. Everything was at peace.

But he... wasn't.

Despite his surroundings, he felt tense. Stepping across green grass that in his memories had been soaked with rain, he moved cautiously forward in the bright sunshine. His eyes were locked on the figure before him, outlined against the sky and sea, standing inches from the cliff's edge. Rick swallowed nervously, pausing where he was. Not daring to come any closer he called out, trying to keep the quiver he felt inside from his voice.

"Trevor, come down from there. Please..."

The figure turned his head, still outlined against the clear blue sky. Trevor looked back at him, and smiled.

Rick continued.

"Please just step back from the edge and everything will be fine. It's... it's not too late."

A soft breeze wafted over the cliff, gently brushing over both of them. Their eyes looked at each other and shared a quiet moment, and they both understood. There was no going back, no stepping away. Trevor turned his head and looked down at the drop beneath his toes.

"It is too late," he said, facing away.

Rick decided to risk stepping closer, his voice sounding desperate. "Trevor, please come down. This doesn't have to happen again. This--"

The figure turned his head again, but it wasn't Trevor that was standing at the edge. Rick blinked when he realized he was looking into his own face. He was the one standing on the cliff. He watched as calmly, the figure smiled again.

"It's okay," his own voice said.

Without moving his feet, the figure tilted outward, his face full of serenity. Rick scrambled forward, but the figure dropped away and disappeared past the cliff's edge.

"No! No!" Rick called out, still running closer. The world seemed to shake with his steps as he finally reached the cliff. His eyes looked everywhere across the fall, trying to see, trying to stop and not follow the figure off of the--

Suddenly a loud ringing interrupted everything.

Rick jerked up in his bed sheets where he had been sleeping face down, opening his eyes and looking around. He was in his dingy, rented apartment in Chicago. Everything was quiet, dark. The blinds were drawn, covering his bedroom window, but the tinge of a new morning could be seen glowing around the edges.

And his cell phone was still ringing.

His head dropped wearily back onto his pillow. Rick reached for his cell phone without looking up, the small device ringing and rumbling on the night stand beside the bed. Slowly placing it against his ear he answered it, his voice muffled since his face was still buried in the pillow.

"Hello?"

Trevor's voice came through.

"_Whoa. I thought I sounded hazy in the morning. Rise and shine Valentine! We've got work to do. Today is the best day of the rest of your life!_ "

"That's depressing..." Rick lifted his head, still holding the phone to his ear as he spoke.

"Trevor.. Would it be illegal to kill someone who everyone already thinks is dead? Because this early in the morning, I'm considering it."

"_Can't kill me, man. I'm a god. Immortal._"

Rick nodded. "We could test it."

"_I already did. Jumped off a cliff, remember?_"

"Right. I remember," he said softly.

Trevor continued.

"_Look. You and Frechette. I'm getting the band back together._ "

Rick's brow crinkled. "Why? Last night's performance was a disaster. A full night of bickering and arguing. You're lucky I didn't punch him."

"_Sounds like a band to me."_

Rick ignored that. "And you. It seemed you were calling us every 30 seconds."

"_Every 25 seconds. But there's still some parts of what happened last night that I'm unclear about. So come on. Give it to me. Spit it out. I'll need a full AAR, or sit-rep, or whatever. We can fix this. Work with me studly._ "

"Trevor..." Rick sounded worn out. "I haven't slept! I was up all night on this insane mission of yours. I'm exhausted. Aren't you? When do you sleep?"

Trevor's voice sounded like it was going a mile a minute.

"_Oh, I haven't . Pretty wired right now. So look--"_

Rick rubbed his eyes, before interrupting more forcefully. "I'm not going through that again, Trevor. I can't do it."

"_Old 'chetty couldn't be that bad._" Trevor answered simply.

"Frechette?" Rick blinked. "The man was annoying. Condescending."

"_Right._"

"Arrogant. Snide."

"_Uh-huh. Gotcha._ "

"A complete and total assh--"

"_Hooh-kay!_" Trevor broke him off, not letting him finish. "_Right. Got it. Check._" He made a clicking sound. Then there ws several moments of silence as Trevor waited.

Confused, Rick waited too. "Umm, is... is that not enough?"

Trevor scoffed, and even over the phone he could tell Trevor was rolling his eyes. "_MORTALS. You all think you've got it bad, but you've never been around a herd of male minotaurs during mating season. So... really? That's it? That's all it takes and the big strong, alcoholic police sergeant gives up? I thought you guys were tough._ "

Rick didn't care one iota. "Welcome back to reality, Trevor."

"_You throw in the towel because one man on the quest for love is marginally unfriendly?_"

Rick's head popped up further. "Marginally? What? I--"

Trevor's words rushed over him, not listening. "_You're ready to throw away this poor sad individual's ONE chance at ever finding someone to spend the rest of his life with just because he's not nice and hurt your little man-feelings?_"

"That pretty much nails it on the head, yeah."

"_Well, cowboy up! Take it like a man! Damn the torpedoes! Whatever useless metaphor you like. Can you imagine if all of history's world leaders thought like you?_"

Rick tried to interrupt in futility. "Ummm, what does any--"

"_What if the speech went 'We have nothing to fear, except someone hurting our feelings!'._ "

"Trevor, you can't--"

"_Or if someone had said 'Ask not what you can do for your country, ask why your country is filled impolite people'!_"

"Wait, I--"

"_Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words scare the crap out of me!_"

"But--"

"_'I have a dream!'_" Trevor was still quoting. "_'I have seen the promised land! And it's mean!'''_ "

"I--" Rick tried his best to get a word in, but Trevor was on a roll.

"_'We the People, in order to form a more perfect union, are forever hindered because the Union is filled with as--_"

"Okay!!" Rick finally interrupted loudly, not letting him finish the word as Trevor had done to him before. With Trevor's litany broken, Rick finally spoke again, sounding tired, exhausted. "Ok, Trevor. Look, if I agree to continue ,will you shut up so I can get some sleep?"

"_Yes!_" Trevor said proudly. "_I mean... no. Or maybe. I don't know. The universe is full of possibilities, so it's hard to say. But it might increase your chances. _ "

Losing hope, Rick dropped his head back into the pillow. "Oh god..."

Trevor gave an instant, knee jerk response. "_Speaking._"

Without the strength to continue, Rick finally... surrendered. "Ok, fine. I'll do it. I'll help that arrogant wacko god whipped lackey find the love of his life. But I don't know what you could possibly expect me to do this early in the morning."

Trevor's voice came through the phone.

"_Well, now that you ask..._"

Suddenly there was a loud knocking on Rick's front door. Angrily, Rick sat up, his hand reaching out and pausing over his policeman's gun, wanting to shoot whoever was knocking. Especially if it was Trevor. With a soft curse he thought better of it and got out of bed, leaving the gun behind to stumble across his apartment in a weary haze to answer the door.

Still holding the cell phone to his ear, he undid the locks and jerked the front door open to find... Frechette standing in the hallway outside, just as upset at having been awaked by Trevor as Rick was.

He held his own cell phone to his ear too. The man looked bleary eyed and even more dour than usual, silently seething at what he had heard.

"_Three way conference call,_" Trevor explained over both their phones. "_Now, minions. Say hi to each other._"

Frechette's eyes could have shot daggers. "Hi."

"Hi," said Rick coldly back.

"_Great start you two! Oops, gotta go. So get out there and get cracking! You're happily ever afters await!_"

The call ended, leaving the two men staring at each other.

Rick didn't blink. "You heard all that?"

Frechette didn't blink either. "Heard what? Something about an arrogant wacko god whipped lackey?"

Rick's gaze was steady. "Yeah."

Frechette's expression didn't change one bit, still glaring at him. "No... I didn't hear a thing."

"Right."

Looking away, Frechette paused, thinking. "There must be some way out of this nightmare."

Rick said it simply. "I have a gun..."

"Hmm..." Frechette's voice sounded intrigued. "We'll call that plan B."

"Sure." Rick started yawning, obviously on the verge of drowsing off again right where he stood.

Suddenly Rick's cell phone rang. It was Trevor.

"_No sleeping! And no guns!_"

Saying nothing further, the line went dead.

Rick stared at Frechette, his voice stunned. "He said no sleeping and no guns."

Frechette's eyes widened, as if Trevor had known everything they had said in the last few seconds. "How did--?"

After a few seconds, they both cautiously looked up as if they were being watched by some force from above.

Rick looked at Frechette again. "Could he have some sort of powers?"

Even Frechette smiled at that. "Trevor?"

At that moment back at home, Trevor was preparing his breakfast, tossing raw eggs and fruit into a blender for a morning drink. When he pushed the button to start it, the contents swirled and spurted past the blender's loose top, spilling everywhere as Trevor frantically turned back to hold the top down and stop the blender, looking at the mess.

Back in the hallway, the two men considered Trevor, realizing how absurd it seemed.

"Nab..." they said as one, their shoulders relaxing.

Rick turned and headed back into his apartment calling behind him.

"Come on in. I'll get dressed and we'll get out of here. At least we can go through the motions of this 'mission'."

Frechette entered Rick's apartment slowly, but he couldn't help but let his face wrinkle in disgust at what he saw in the dim interior within.

Rick's apartment was a mess.

There was fast food bags and wrappers scattered chaotically all around. Some still had half eaten pieces of food inside them. The carpet below was dotted with papers and trash, and every flat surface in the apartment was a miniature skyline of empty brown beer bottles. as Rick walked past, he didn't seem to notice, heading towards the bedroom.

"Have a seat," he said matter of factly.

Gingerly, Frechette removed some worn and unwashed clothing from the couch, clearing off a small space on the edge. He sat as near the edge as possible, not wanting to lean back. Frechette looked around, evaluating. His eyes locked on the living room window blinds, drawn down and shut tightly, closing out the new sunshine of the day beyond. For a moment, it struck him how the room's interior possibly mirrored the person who lived there.

Frechette could hear Rick in the other room, opening drawers as he changed, so he called out to him, trying to keep his disgust for the man's apartment from his voice and almost succeeding.

"I... I did a preliminary search of the name you gave me last night. Pam Martin? You told me she works at one of the local hospitals. I have access there. I'm one of the hospital administrators."

Rick leaned back to look at him through the doorway, surprised. "You? Mission-loving, note-taking, Cupid-fearing you?"

"Yes me," Frechette answered obviously, his face harder looking than normal. "I searched the records of my hospital and all the other ones in Greater Chicago as well. There was nothing on the employee record of a Pam Martin working at or having ever worked at any of the hospitals in Chicago." Frechette gave him a look. "Isn't that strange."

Rick came out of the bedroom fully dressed but not looking much more presentable than before. He seemed nervous at Frechette's questions, not looking at him and scratching his head.

"Well, she may have changed her name when she moved out here."

"Changed her na--? Wait..." Frechette looked at him with more scrutiny, studying. "Were you stalking her?"

"Legally?" Rick thought about it. "Well... yeah."

Frechette seemed incredulous, staring harshly up at the man. "Is that why she moved here to Chicago? To escape you once the relationship ended?"

"Look, I've made a few mistakes--"

Interrupting, Frechette shook his head. "Starting when? Birth?"

Turning his head slightly, Rick looked questioningly at him. "Not very therapeutic, doc. Besides, at least I'm not a crazy man's even crazier follower."

Frechette was really glaring at him now. "Respected psychiatrist, honored member of the community, hospital board administrator. As opposed to a pungent, unemployed alcoholic stalker. You're right. My life's much more of a mess than yours."

Rick shrugged. "Well, glad we finally agree on something, 'proxy man'."

Frechette fumed at the sarcastic use of Trevor's nickname for him, but said nothing.

Rick grabbed his coat against the chill February air waiting outside. "Come on. Let's get this freak show on the road."

The late afternoon sky was pale against the white, wintry sky. The wind was cold as it flowed over the bustling Chicago sidewalks. Cars on the streets drove through the darkened slush of residual snow on the streets, mist wafting from their tailpipe exhausts. One man waited impatiently on the cleared sidewalk. Shivering slightly, Rick looked across the street and watched as Frechette came towards him through the passing traffic, his face buried in his notebook as he scribbled notes onto the paper. Shifting his gaze, Rick looked towards the pretty blond on the sidewalk behind the doctor. She was walking quickly away, with only one furtive glance back at Frechette as if happy to be escaping.

Engrossed in what he was doing, Frechette stepped in front of a moving car. It skidded to a stop, sliding forward and kicking up gray, mushy snow. The driver started honking loudly. Turning his head slightly, Frechette didn't seem concerned, his thoughts returning to his research as he continued to write, continuing on to cross the street until he joined Rick on the sidewalk.

Rick chuckled as Frechette came within hearing distance. "So I take it that it didn't go well?"

Looking up from his notebook, Frechette only paused long enough to glare at him. "Why do you say that?"

"You look even more grim than usual."

Ignoring that Frechette continued to write. ""Attempt # 28. Location : Downtown Chicago. Subject results : Inconclusive."

The two men began to walk down the sidewalk sid by side. Rick sighed. "What are we doing here?"

Frechette still didn't look up, finishing up the details as he walked. "You know what we're doing here."

"Yeah, you're supposed to find me someone, and I'm supposed to find you someone to get some insane Cupid wannabe off our backs and help me 'feel' again. But ignoring the ridiculousness of that statement, do you really think that this is the best strategy? Cold cornering random women on the street? There are even less women out here now than when we tried last night. At least these are the type who aren't more concerned with payment options.."

The two of them were crossing a bridge over the water downtown, the skyscrapers high all around in the chill; air. The scene seemed gray and dismal as cars whizzed past on the street, the stone railing beside the sidewalk sliding by.

Frechette finished his notes and looked up, answering Rick's question. "One of the things Trevor has taught me is that romance can sneak up on you. Any place can be prospect for--"

Rick sounded exasperated. "It can't sneak up on anyone if you pounce on it like a lion talking down a zebra!"

Frechette tried to keep his cool. "Trevor taught--"

Rolling his eyes, Rick exhaled. "Trevor taught! Trevor taught! Can't you think for yourself, doc? Use that expensively educated brain of yours and look around. Look at your prospects!"

A woman wearing way too much makeup was on the corner, smiling at people and wearing skin tight pants with a thick heavy jacket against the cold .She chatted softly to the men walking by, and was obviously a prostitute.

Frechette looked back at Rick, who was already taking a drink from a small flask he had taken out from his inner coat pocket. He spoke to him pointedly. "Whatever you're looking for, guess it must be at the bottom of that flask."

"Thanks for the lecture, Dudley do Right."

Finishing his drink and putting the flask away, Rick searched the streets again.

"Ok," he said. "I'm up. My turn to find you someone."

Seeing nothing else, he gazed at the prostitute for several long moments. Not saying a word, he looked back at Frechette expectantly.

Frechette's face hardened even more. "No."

"Hey, Trevor only wanted me to get you laid."

"No."

"Just a thought."

Frechette glared at him. "If that's the best you can do I might as well enlist in a monastery."

Rick shrugged. "It's the best either of us can do out here. We need a place with more people."

The two of them stopped, thinking. Then Frechette turned his head and looked at Rick.

"I know a place..."

The large, open interior of Taggerty's was already starting to fill with a few people, music playing in the background as behind the bar Champ smiled and offered a tray of drinks to a young man waiting there.

"There you go. You guys enjoy yourself."

As the customer left, the large, smooth headed black man seemed happier than usual, his face beaming as he turned back around. It probably had something to do with the petite redhead looking at him from her seat at the bar, her eyes practically sparkling with admiration.

Jaclyn smiled as he came closer. "Sometimes I think you really enjoy it. Working here."

Trying to keep a tiny grin off his face, Champ pretended to not understand, wiping down the bar. "What do you mean?"

"You." Jaclyn laughed leaning in closer. "Look at you."

Champ felt his heart flutter in his chest from the warmth of Jaclyn's gaze. "Well, working here does have it's perks. Some of the regulars..." he looked right at her, "...are really cute."

Jaclyn smiled and said nothing, looking at him as she gently sipped on the red straw in her drink. Exhaling and almost knocking an empty glass off the bar, Champ tried to ignore the image. He had a job to do after all. Getting his composure back, he continued. "Besides. Someone has to help manage this place. Linda can't be here everyday, you know."

Jaclyn nodded. "How long are you behind the bar this time? When does your next movie start?"

"Not till May. Once it warms up."

Jaclyn tilted her chin down and looked up at him. "I love it when things warm up."

Placing his hands wide apart on top of the bar, Champ chuckled. "You're trying to distract me."

She nodded. "More than trying."

Going back to her drink, Jaclyn continued. "Besides... working here is not really the same thing as filming a movie, is it."

"Oh, I don't know. " Champ looked out into the bar at the crowd that was beginning to trickle in. "This place has it's stories. The cute, red headed starlet with a certain 'je ne sais quoi' that everyone in the bar is looking at..." He turned his gaze back to her.

"The handsome leading man," she replied as she put her drink down and ever so slowly leaned closer.

"Twists," he said leaning closer too.

"Turns," she continued forward, edging closer still.

"Love interests." His voice was soft, only for her, their faces inches apart.

"Love interests?" she repeated, smiling gently. Her eyes really were sparkling now. Champ felt lost in them, still coming closer.

"Romance. Heroes..." he continued.

Their faces continued to move towards each other over the top of the bar as they both leaned in. Hovering on the edge of a kiss, both their lips separated slightly, almost touching.

Then there was the ring of a bell.

Jaclyn's gaze shifted, looking at who had just entered through the front door.

"Villains," she said coldly. She turned away from Champ, the moment broken.

Champ looked over at the new arrivals.

Rick and Frechette were standing at the front door, both looking around the bar and seeming completely out of place. Rick looked at the array of people spread about the many tables inside, before looking down at his own clothing, feeling underdressed in his worn slacks and unwashed jacket. Feeling like a street person.

"Here?" he asked incredulously, still looking around.

Frechette was looking around too, unconcerned. "Trevor used to operate out of here. He has sent me here on many a night."

Rick sighed, deflating. "God... To think I've come to such bad circumstances in my life to be forced into a place like this..."

Frechette continued to scan the room as they stood by the entrance. But he answered anyway, his words confident and simple. "That's a common misconception. Life isn't created by circumstance. It's created by outlook. Take a seat. I've got to talk to somebody."

As the balding doctor left, Rick watched him with a grudging smile, impressed by Frechette's flash of self confidence.

Walking across the room, Frechette approached Champ and Jaclyn at the bar. As he came up to them, Jaclyn glared at him coldly, before offering him a brief "Ian..." and getting up to leave.

Frechette watched her get off her barstool and brush past him, walking over to the other side of the room. He continued over to Champ.

The jovial looking bartender smiled, obviously not having the same reaction to him, chuckling as Frechette came up.

"Jaclyn still hasn't forgiven you for threatening to put Trevor on THORAX-B," he explained.

Frechette gritted his jaw at the memory. "I remember."

Deciding to tease Trevor's new devout follower even further, Champ continued. "Or for trying to personally hunt him down after he shot Faith."

Frechette's face grew even more stern. "Yes. I know."

"She still sometimes calls you 'the creature'--"

"Ok, I get it!" Frechette said more loudly.

Letting it drop, Champ couldn't help but be anything but happy, bathing in the afterglow of Jaclyn's attention with a sigh. He looked over at the new arrival Frechette had come in with, watching as Rick walked to a table and took a seat. Champ turned his gaze back to Frechette. "So... It seems you've snagged another passenger for the crazy train."

Frechette's shoulders seemed to stiffened at the mention of his unwanted partner, none too happy to have Rick along. "Yes I have."

Champ couldn't help but be amused by Frechette's discomfort. "And why is that, exactly?"

"Because Trevor is making me."

Understanding, Champ nodded. "I see..."

Frechette continued. "Could you get us a couple of drinks, please? We need to wait for nightfall, so the bar can fill up."

As Champ started making the unspecified drinks, he looked at Frechette, a playful light in his eyes. "I notice you've been doing a lot of your 'missions' in here lately. Better be careful, doc. People might start calling you a regular," he teased.

Frechette blinked, offended. "I'm not irregular! Why, what have you seen me doing?"

Champ paused. "What? No. Not irregular. A regular. Here at the bar. It just seems that maybe you're finally loosening up."

"Hmm..." Frechette replied lightly. Looking down, he seemed to be honestly considering it. Then he looked back up at Champ with absolute clarity. "No. It doesn't."

Champ laughed, turning. Facing away, he continued to talk to Frechette in a normal voice without looking at him. He went on filling drink orders and tried to not draw attention to the two of them, acting as if they weren't really talking at all.

"So... how is our 'mutual friend'."

Frechette didn't flinch, all poker faced. "He's fine. Well."

With a grin, Champ looked at him out of the corner of his eye for a brief moment before turning again. "The 'well' part is debatable." The smile faded, and suddenly Champ's face became serious. "I saw him. A few nights ago. He came by here and looked in through the window. He shouldn't have done that. If he gets recognized..."

Lowering his gaze, Frechette nodded in sympathy. "I know... I've used all my professional acumen to try and convince our 'mutual friend' to to stay put. But let's just say, in my professional opinion, this particular case subject is... hard headed."

Champ pretended to be surprised by the 'revelation'. "Hard headed? You don't say. Well that does seem a familiar way for describing our 'mutual friend'."

Suddenly Frechette's cell phone rang. Pulling it out of his pocket, he looked down at the screen to see who was calling. "The evidence does seem to support the accuracy of our assessment." Frechette sighed, looking back up. "Our 'mutual friend'."

Champ turned away again. "You better answer him. Otherwise he'll end up calling the ba--"

Suddenly the phone behind the bar counter started to ring as well.

With a sigh Champ reached over and quickly lifted and dropped the receiver, not bothering to answer. The ringing stopped.

Frechette turned his attention back to his own phone, which after a moment, stopped as well. Both men, looked up, surprised at the unexpected silence, having expected Trevor to be more persistent. Together, they started to relax.

Champ seemed pleased. "He must have gotten the hint. Guess you can teach an old God new tricks after all."

For the first time since he had come in, Frechette actually smiled. He held a glance with Champ. "Don't count on it..."

It was several hours later, and the interior of Taggerty's was filled with light, music, and happy people as the darkness of a cold Chicago night pressed against the windows. In contrast to being relatively empty in the afternoon, now the bar was packed, full of people laughing and enjoying themselves.

Seated at a booth on the far side of the room with a drink in his hand, Rick watched as slowly Frechette made his way back through the crowd to him. From the look on Frechette's face, he could already tell it hadn't gone well. The woman Rick had tried to introduce to the balding older man was already talking to someone else.

Rick sounded frustrated as Frechette came within earshot. "Oh come on! What was wrong with that one? She was really cute! I've been trying to introduce you to people, talk you up, make up some good qualities, but you don't seem to like any of the women in this whole place!"

Frechette looked uncomfortable after his failed attempt, Taking a seat across, he looked at Rick across the table. "What's your point?"

Rick took another sip from his drink, several other empty glasses already clustered on the table. "My point is that you're obviously looking for someone specific. You keep searching the crowd expecting to see something, but it's like you can't find her, man."

Pausing, Frechette looked at the table as the music continued to play over the hum of conversation in the crowded bar behind him. Several times that night he had seen a flash of pale skin, or of luminous blond hair, glimpsed in the crowd, but none of them had been what he thought. Finally, Frechette smiled. "I suppose that's true..."

Rick noticed the look on Frechette's face. "There! Right there. That image you're thinking of in your head. That's what we should be trying to find. Someone like that must be in here somewhere. Tell me. Picture her in your mind's eye. Describe her to me."

"Well..." Frechette shifted back in his chair, getting more comfortable. People passing behind him as he spoke, Frechette described the image with fondness. "She's beautiful. A free spirit. There's a serenity and a light about her. A warmth that encompasses the whole world. Like she's finally let her heart soar and is able to love everything like that's all there is or ever was. Her eyes.... are this dazzling, amazing blue that make you feel like your living for the first time, every time you look into them. A voice that makes my heart beat faster just by the sound of it. Blond hair as golden as the first sunrise of creation. Her every step.... lighter than air. And a clarity when she looks at you. Like she's gone through something horrible, and has freed herself from it. Freed herself from every bad thing that could ever exist."

Frechette looked up to see Rick staring blankly at him, the description not really what he had been expecting.

Chuckling, Frechette summarized it in a way Rick would understand.

"Umm... blonde and hot."

"Blonde and hot!" Rick came out of his stare. "Right! That I can work with. I'll be back."

Rising to his feet, Rick nearly fell over from all the alcoholic beverages he had consumed, barely managing to make it out of the booth. Embarrassed, he finally steadied himself, emitting a loud burp before he stumbled off into the crowd.

Frechette sighed, not expecting much and looking away. Then his cell phone rang. He picked it up, already knowing who it was.

"How's it going?" Trevor asked over the phone.

Frechette was about to answer when suddenly there was a loud crash across the bar. Rick had stumbled and fallen, knocking over a table full of drinks onto the boyfriend of the blond he had been talking to.

Trevor heard the crash through the phone. "That bad, huh?"

Sitting there with a sense of inevitability, Frechette watched as one of the people at the table stood and pushed Rick away. Rick pushed back, and suddenly fists were flying everywhere. Champ and some very large, muscular looking bouncers were already rushing towards the commotion as the fight grew larger.

Frechette didn't bother to get up from his seat. Trevor could obviously hear the fight over the phone. There was another crash as a second table was overturned and the bouncers tackled Rick to the ground.

Turning away, Frechette sighed as the fight continued behind him. On the front glass, approaching police lights were already flashing. After a few moments, he turned his attention back to his cell phone.

"I'll be at the police station, Trevor."

Several hours later, two men stepped out of the local police precinct station and out into the wintry air. Rick seemed more sober than before, no longer stumbling, but seemingly happier, smiling up to the night sky as he breathed in his newly found freedom. He looked over at Frechette.

"Smells good doesn't it?"

Crinkling his nose, Frechette obviously didn't agree. "What does?" he asked.

"That first bit of air once you're finally out of your holding cell. After being released into the custody of my supposed 'shrink' of course."

Frechette simply nodded in response as the two men moved down the front steps and began to walk along the sidewalk. Frechette couldn't help but ask.

"So it seems you have experience with this type of situation?"

Rick laughed. "Believe it or not, I HAVE been drunk before."

"You don't say." Looking straight ahead, Frechette continued to walk. "Never would have guessed."

"And thanks again for bailing me out of there. Coming up with that story out of nowhere, claiming to be my shrink. Have to say, I'm impressed. Very smooth. Not a flinch from you. You know, for such a stuffy guy, you're pretty fast on your feet."

Frechette smiled. "I'll inform my shoes they'll have to do better if they want to keep up."

"Right..." Rick looked ahead into the shadows draped over them as they walked for a few more moments in silence.

Suddenly Frechette seemed thoughtful as he went over the events of the night. He looked over at Rick, as if trying to peer into the man he was tasked to help.

"I realize I never asked you in return," he said finally. "What are you looking for in a woman, Rick?"

Rick shrugged as the two of them walked forward, the sidewalk dark all around them. "I don't know. The usual stuff, I guess. Love. Happiness."

Frechette continued. "And if you picture that in your head. That Love. Happiness. In your mind's eye... Who do you see beside you?"

Honestly searching for his own answers, Rick's voice quieted. "I don't know. Hard to say, doc. Someone that will make me feel whole again. Someone who will help me get my life back together. Help me find myself."

Frechette nodded, before looking over at him again. "Sounds to me like you're looking for something in yourself rather than in another person."

Rick thought about it, growing quieter still. "I suppose..."

The two of them were silent as they continued forward, until Rick realized something, stopping in place.

"Do you here that?"

Frechette listened carefully. "Hear what?

"Silence. No ringing cell phones. Wait... It's been almost two whole minutes. Shouldn't Trevor be--"

Suddenly Rick's cell phone began to ring, followed a few seconds later by Frechette's. And even though it was well past midnight, they looked at the prospect of still having a long night ahead of them.

Sharing a glance they both turned off their cell phones and the ringing stopped.

"Tomorrow," Frechette sighed tiredly.

"Tomorrow," Rick agreed, the two men walking quietly down the dark street.

It was the next night, and Frechette and Rick were back in Claire's house while she was away overnight for work. The rest of the home was dark except for dining room light shining on the two of them and Trevor, as was usual. But as the two men looked at the dining room table where Trevor was standing before them, it was completely different.

Love Central had become a communications hub. Two tiny, battered tvs were on the dining room table, each showing a different news channel. Their screens flanked a laptop computer, its flat screen glowing with some kind of program Trevor had running on the internet. Various wires and cords snaked across the dining room table to other devices behind.

"Trevor, What is..." Rick began, before Trevor interrupted eagerly, his voice brimming with enthusiasm.

"This is Love Central 2.0 baby! Going high tech on romance's ass. Because of you two. After yet another fiasco on the high seas of love, I decided to pull out the big guns and finally buy all these binoculars to spot the icebergs. This is how I'm going to stay plugged in, zoned out, and in constant communication with you guys, guiding you through."

Trevor started picking up each item as he described them. "I've got two cell phones, one home phone, two different news channels to spot prospects and targets of opportunity, broad band internet--"

This time it was Frechette who interrupted. "And... a video game guitar?"

Trevor shrugged. "In case I get bored. Believe me. The God of Love can multitask. You should have seen me outside Athens that one night before fire was invented. Two very willing nymphs and a whole heard of enraged, charging griffins. And I didn't miss a beat. On either front. Or back. Helps being a God of War-God of Love hybrid, huh?"

Rick's voice sounded concerned. "Umm, this may be an obvious statement that you've heard many times before but, something you just said bothered me. Did you say_ constant _communication with us? I know I'll regret this next sentence but, what did you mean by that?"

Trevor simply looked at the two of them for a moment, a smile growing on his face.

"Glad you asked."

Taggerty's was still as noisy and crowded as it always was. Moving stiffly side by side, Rick and Frechette walked up to the bar where Champ was working. As soon as he saw the pair approach, his smiling face became completely serious, pointing a warning finger at Rick.

"Hey you!! I don't want any more fights in here! If your gonna stay in here you're gonna half to learn to behave or I'll toss both your asses out on the street myself."

Sheepishly, Rick answered, seeming uncomfortable. "Umm... I'll behave. I promise."

Champ blinked at the response, not expecting it. He took a moment to get a better look at them, growing surprised. Finally he spoke.

"You look like space cadets."

Rick and Frechette were standing side by side in the crowded bar, very bright blue lights glowing from silver wireless earpieces on both of their prospective right ears. The two pieces were extremely noticeable and extremely identical on their heads.

Frechette tried to hide his embarrassment, looking down. "Courtesy of Trevor."

Champ couldn't help that he was still staring, mystified by their ridiculous appearance. "How did he get a hold of--"

Rick shook his head. "We have no idea. They're always on. Constant communication." He repeated despondently. "_Constant_..."

"And so..." Blinking, Champ stared at them, trying to understand. "...that means he's listening now?"

The two men looked down, as if reacting to something only they could hear.

Frechette looked back up. "He says to say... yes."

Rick nodded. "And something about 'the Imperial governors will now have direct control over their territories'?"

Champ shook his head. "Another Star Wars reference."

Slowly, Frechette smiled at the absurdity of their situation. "He doesn't get out much."

"Trevor, this will never work."

It was an hour later, and Trevor was still remotely guiding Rick and Frechette through their paces all across the bar. At the moment, both of them were looking at a pretty red head they had mentioned to Trevor, siting alone at her table. Trevor had told them to simultaneously focus their attention on her, and the two men seemed cautious at what he might be suggesting.

Trevor's voice came through their earpieces.

"_Ok, stay with me here Tom and Jerry._"

Back at the house, Trevor was a jumble of moving hands and activity, doing multiple things at once, fully surrounded by Cupid Central. Taking a large bite from a homemade submarine sandwich, he placed it aside. Chewing vigorously, his fingers danced over his laptop keyboard, doing a person search as he wedged one cell phone between his ear and his shoulder, a wired ear bud on the other side of his head connected to a second cell phone on the table. A black strap was angled across his chest, leading to the video game guitar controller hanging at his belt. He stopped what he was typing once his chewing was done, stretching to reach a cookie from the plate Frechette had prepared and specifically labeled 'Gods Only'. As he crunched on it, he nearly dropped the cell phone wedged against his left ear, catching it off his shoulder just in time.

"Ok, minions. The facts are these. You're both going to walk up to her."

Back at the bar, Frechette's face was full of skepticism as he looked at the redhead. "Right..."

Trevor circled the video game guitar forward and into his hands, starting a song, still munching on a cookie.

"Both of you two 'viral' young men are gonna go up to that table, sit down at the same time..."

Rick looked over at Frechette and the two of them shared a worried glance, not liking where this was going. Rick spoke to Trevor through his headset, the red head still completely oblivious to what was going on.

"Trevor, what exactly are you suggesting here?"

"Let me put it more clearly."

The laptop continued to do it's search on Claire's dining room table, words and images passing on the screen, running the specific program Trevor had designed to crack into various databases. The two small tvs still showed streaming news channels, but Trevor ignored them. There was a third screen now, hooked up to the guitar controller, colored markers sliding towards him on a virtual fret board. Trevor hit notes as he continued.

"I believe the technical term is... 'Ménage à trois'."

In the bar, Frechette's eyes widened. "Trevor you can't be--"

"No way!" Rick protested. "Absolutely no way!"

Trevor's voice came through both of their earpieces, sounding animated as he tried to calm them.

"_Hey! Whoa! That's not what I meant! You guys aren't ready for that. That's advanced level stuff, and you two are still Newbies. Just go to the table, and sit down with her. I'll tell you what to say. I don't expect both of you to have a shot here, but maybe in the messy aftermath, one of you will. Even if both of you don't. You follow? It's the spaghetti principle._ "

Rick didn't understand. "The what?"

Souring at the thought, Frechette looked over, obviously familiar with it. "You throw a bunch of spaghetti against the wall..." he started.

Trevor finished in both their earpieces.

"_... you see what sticks._ "

Rick swallowed, growing hushed, a fearful realization slowly dawning on his face. "We're the spaghetti..."

"_Exact-- Wow!_" Trevor shouted about something else, distracted by what he was doing back at Claire's. "_ I just 5-starred everything on expert! Pathetically easy game. Now get in there!_"

Rick And Frechette were seated side by side, surrounded by the happy boisterous crowd around them. The two grown men looked blankly across the table at the very pretty red haired woman with them. She blinked, waiting for something to be said. They blinked too. Then again. Nothing. The three of them merely sat there in their bubble of awkward silence amidst all the activity filling the rest of the room. Rick and Frechette never felt so out of place in their lives.

"I'm Amy, by the way..." she prodded.

The red head looked at them quizzically, a tiny smile growing on her lips. "Wait... are you two a couple? That's so sweet!"

Rick's eyes opened wide with shock.

Trevor's voice came screaming through the earpieces glowing bright blue on their ears. "_Woah! Mayday! I head off to the bathroom for one second and this happens! You're losing her Chetty! Do something BOLD! Something ridiculous! Something macho! Show her your penis!_"

What?!" Frechette responded loudly to Trevor.

"_Your metaphorical penis! Be a man! Grunt or flex or something!_"

Amy looked at him, finally hearing Frechette's voice and thinking he was talking to her. "It's a simple question," she said good naturedly, tilting her head slightly. "So how long have you two guys been an item?"

"No! No!" Rick leaned forward in a panic, having heard enough. "You've got this all wrong! Really absolutely wrong. We're just two flamingly heterosexual men. 100% Broadway free!"

Offended by what Rick was saying, Frechette frowned, speaking low to himself. "But I like musicals..."

Rick continued.

"Look, we're just two completely normal, average, ordinary guys who would like to... " Rick's lips wrinkled, searching uncomfortably for the best words to say.

Trevor piped in quickly. "_This is your chance! Your chance to say the perfect thing! Don't blow it man._"

"Two normal, guys who would like to..." Finally, words slipped out. "... do you."

"_So close..._" Trevor sighed.

Amy nodded slowly. "Right..."

Trevor switched from 'all' to Frechette's private channel. "_We're losing her, Chetty. Get in there! The guy's a caveman. Rick's idea of poetry is the label on a six pack!_ "

"I heard that!" Rick replied.

The red head laughed, thinking Rick was talking to her. "Well, nice to know my voice still works. But a bit of a delay in your response time there. You guys really aren't used to doing this are you?"

"No," the two of them admitted softly in unison.

She nodded. "Actual words. Or... word . Better. Why weren't you guys willing to talk a second ago?"

Rick looked down. "We... weren't allowed to."

Frechette nodded simply.

Amy's eyes opened slightly, dumbfounded, giving them a pleasant, tight lipped look.

Frechette's earpiece crackled again and Trevor's voice came through. " Am I on? Chetty, you copy me, man? "

"I'm here!" Frechette answered loudly and clearly, sitting up in his chair.

Amy smiled at his words, beginning to suspect he wasn't all there in his mental development. "Yes you are!" She reached over and patted the back of his hand comfortingly on the table. Frechette had to admit that that small touch sent a thrill through him. She looked back at the two of them. "So considering the delicate elegance of your opening moves, how much have you two had to drink?"

"Not enough..." Rick groaned.

She nodded. "You sure you two aren't a couple? I see you both in here all the time. Whispering to each other," she finished with an amused conspiratorial twinkle in her eye.

"Well all of that's..." Rick struggled for an excuse, "classified."

"Sure," she said simply.

Finally settled with the wiring at home, Trevor chimed in again. "_ Ok, lets get into it. You're up to bat first Chetty. Top of the order. Get ready and take a swing. Stand tall, stoke up the sizzle, fire up the burners, aim for the fences! Time to give her a smoldering passionate look. Make your sex appeal appeal! Wow her with your best NON gay heterosexual come hither stare! Make her stare aware!_ "

Worried, Rick looked over at Frechette, still listening in on Trevor's transmission.

Frechette paused as he looked directly at Amy, trying to put a smolder in his eyes. His body began to tense and contort as he stared at her meaningfully.

She grew more uncomfortable the longer he did it. With a concerned expression, she leaned in. "Do... you need to go to the bathroom?"

Rick let out a frustrated exhalation at his performance. "Oh come on, Ian! That's it? Really? Are you sure you're not gay?"

Frechette stopped his stare, embarrassed as the other two looked at him. Finally a playful smile curled up the corner of his lips in the smallest, slightest way. "Well... I'm just intimidated around incredibly beautiful women."

"_Nice._" Trevor said at Frechette's save. "_Ok. Foul ball. Next pitch. Here we go..._ "

It was several minutes later and things were getting out of hand as Trevor kept switching back and forth between his 'secret' transmissions to the two men.

The view of the rest of the crowded room seemed to be swiveling around the three of them at the table. Frechette's prompted wording and mixed compliments were tumbling incoherently out of his mouth as he talked to Amy and the room continued to spin. Trevor finally interrupted again. "_Chetty no! Bad Chetty! That's not how to say it at all!_"

Frechette blinked, stopping. "But--"

"_No butts!_"

Trevor was at home, jumbling a dozen different activities, encased in Cupid Central. The room seeming to spin around him too as he readjusted his phone equipment from its awkward position on his shoulder. He was still tapping away on his laptop as the darkened living room slid sideways behind, trying to keep up with the two distant men on separate phone lines.

"Amateurs! You're getting this all wrong! I thought head shrinkers were smart! Try the stare again! Hold on..." Trevor struggled to switch lines as the view rotated around him and his equipment. "Ricky boy, here's your chance to jump in. Tell Amy what a complete tool Frechette really is."

In the bar, Frechette glowered. "Me, Trevor."

Amy blinked at his words. "What's a Mitravor?"

Trevor's voice came through Frechette's wireless earpiece, the bar still spinning around him. "_Right, Chetty. Stare away my brother._"

There was a click and Trevor was speaking to Rick. " Rick? "

With the view of the crowd rotating past Rick leaned away from the table, speaking in a desperate whisper off to one side. "Trevor, this is falling apart! I'm pulling out!"

Rick started to get up, but the waitress finally came with his next drink. Seeing it, he calmly changed his attitude and sat back down to take it. Trevor's voice however, still came frantically though the phone, trying to stop him.

"_No, hold the line! HOLD THE LINE! You stay right there! You can still do this. You're a beautiful hunk of beer scented man meat and you just got you're orders to show it off!_ "

Rick paused, uncertain what he had heard exactly. "Wait. What am I supposed to do with my man meat?"

Amy leaned back slightly at that, offended. "Excuse me?"

Frechette broke from is 'come hither' stare and jumped in. "Turrets syndrome. Its okay its just a ... rare form."

Rick lifted the glass of bright colored alcohol and ice the waitress had given him and took a drink as the view circled the table. Through the head piece, Trevor heard the ice tinkle against the glass, barely perceptible.

"_Wait..._" he said. "_Is that the ice clink of an Alabama Slammer I hear?_"

Startled, Rick paused the glass before his mouth, about to take another drink. "No..." he denied in a monotone.

Trevor continued speaking to the two men, as everyone talked at once. His voice was going a mile a minute through their ear pieces, first one, then the other, switching back and forth, giving suggestions and prompts. In her chair at the table, Amy seemed to be growing more uncomfortable by the second, if it was possible. The room was still spinning around the, when she decided to interrupt the incoherent babble being thrown at her from both sides. "Are you both from Chicago? So what do you two guys do?"

Frechette panicked. "We're not gay!" he said loudly.

"I know," Amy sighed. "You said that. MULTIPLE times."

Trevor's voice grew enthusiastic in their ears. "_Great! Backgrounds! We worked on this! you guys should be ready and smooth as glass._"

Rick jumped in first, remembering Trevor's previous instructions. "I'm a fireman."

Frechette blinked, looking over at him, the crowd rotating past behind him. "I thought I was the fireman."

Rick shook his head. "No. You're a spy."

Amy blinked. "He's a what?"

Trevor's voice grew louder. "_NO! You never say you're a spy! Newbie mistake. You say you're something realistic. Say you're a mountain climber and you've been to the top of Mount Olympus!_"

The two men blinked at Trevor's words. "Wait... which one of us is the mountain climber?"

Frechette nodded. "I think it's me."

Rick scoffed. "Right. Because you SO have that mountain climber physique."

Frechette smoldered angrily. "If I hear on more insult from you..."

Rick glowered back. "You'll what? Go climb another fictional mountain on the orders of the Easter Bunny?"

Back at his home, Trevor was no longer listening, going through hospital employee records on his laptop. The screen changed, and his eyes locked on a list of names, staring at it. Clicking on a link, he stopped on one page with a woman pictured, losing his train of thought.

"That's it!" Frechette said angrily in the bar, fed up. "With all this bickering--"

"All this bickering what?" Rick countered.

"With all this bickering, we sound exactly like a--" Frechette continued, before the two men stopped and looked at each other, realizing they sounded exactly like a bickering couple. They both finally turned back to Amy, speaking in unison.

"We're not gay!"

The view which had been rotating behind them finally seemed to settle on their two surprised faces, everything going still, the room no longer spinning as they looked across the table.

Amy's chair was empty. They could barely see her walking away in the distance, disappearing into the crowd.

Rick threw down his earpiece in disgust, watching Amy walk away from the table. Beside him, Frechette didn't seem to notice, still listening to Trevor, his eyes going wide.

Rick shook his head at what Frechette was doing. "It's too late, Ian. She's gone."

Frechette ignored him, his words stumbling out in shock as he spoke to Trevor. "I... How did you... Wow..."

Not understanding, Rick continued. "What? Why are you still listening to him? It's over. She's walking away. Maybe she's the smart one."

"No, not that. It's..." Frechette finally spoke to him, still seeming at a loss for words because of what he was hearing.

"Then what?" Rick asked again, growing impatient. "What's he telling you?"

Frechette turned his gaze to him, still stunned.

"I didn't think it was possible, but... It appears that Trevor has found you're girl."

The small isolated hospital seemed minuscule compared to the vast medical buildings Frechette was used to working in. But as he and Rick walked towards the shadowed structure, its sign glowing out front, the sight of it seemed full of promise.

Rick was following reluctantly at Frechette's side as the crossed the icy asphalt lot, their breath misting on the frozen night air. He looked up worriedly at the glowing lights of the hospital windows ahead as they approached the front door and the promised warmth within. But he couldn't keep a sense of reluctance out of his voice, feeling unsure as he spoke.

"Umm, what are we doing here?"

"Trevor thinks the target's in here," Frechette answered, opening the door and pausing to look around the lobby, intent on his mission. "The woman you came to Chicago for and couldn't find again? He hacked the employee database and believes he found her new name, her new job. You must have become an expert at driving her away if she went to all this trouble. But she should be on shift. Here. Tonight."

Rick seemed to squirm. "Umm, tonight? Trevor actually thinks she's in Chicago? Tonight?"

Not really paying attention, Frechette walked forward like he owned the place, looking around. Suddenly out of the corner of his eye, a woman in hospital scrubs caught his attention, revealing a flash of golden hair. In his peripheral vision, it seemed that her scrubs were faded, worn, the leg bottoms muddied, something he hadn't seen her wearing in a long time. But she had turned a corner before he could turn his head and get a clear look. His heart leaping, Frechette ran towards that corner, desperate to see her again, to see Faith's eyes looking into--.. He reached the corner at a sprint, but stopped, the polished floor empty, no one in the hallway.

Running over to his side to catch up, Rick looked at Frechette, wondering at his sudden dash. "What? What is it?"

Frechette's face fell as he faced the empty hallway, silent for a moment before looking over at Rick. "Umm... nothing. It was nothing."

Rick looked down. "Her going through all this trouble to stay away from me. You must think I'm a complete psycho."

Frechette was looking at the empty space where he thought he had glimpsed Faith. "Yes, a complete psycho." he said absently, before motioning to the doors down the hall. "Her ward. It's this way."

The two men walked over to a locked pair of double doors at the end of the hall. On the wall beside it, a card scanner glowed with a small red LED light, barring their path forward. Frechette stared at it, as Rick looked around uncomfortably, before whispering.

"Look, we're not supposed to be here. This is a colossally bad idea. Maybe we should just turn around and--"

Without blinking, Frechette took a card from his pocket and waved it in the air before the reader, the light switching to green.

Amazed, Rick searched for words. "How did you--"

"Trevor's gotten really good with computers." Frechette smiled at Rick. "He doesn't get out much. He made me a scan card to get into most hospitals months ago. Needed it for a mission. He's probably in their system clearing out the record of our access even now, as we speak. So. Once we're inside, my hospital administrator credentials will clear me, but I need your eyes. So you I'll have to sneak in. Let's go."

Rick couldn't believe he was doing this as Frechette opened the door and pushed him through into the darkened hallway beyond. He looked around, hoping not to be spotted.

Rick was crouched down low, and standing straight beside him, Frechette glanced disdainfully at his ridiculous behavior. "No," he said simply after several seconds, and Rick sheepishly straightened up.

"And Trevor's sure this is the right ward?" Rick continued.

Frechette nodded. "You mentioned the target changed her name, so he found a candidate that fits her profile. He's convinced she's the right one. The one you were involved with back home."

"But how could she even be in--" Rick began, but he stopped himself. "Wait, what do you expect to happen here? She hates my guts! Even if she were here, when she sees me security would be on us in seconds!"

"There are always risks in love." Frechette answered as he looked around, moving down the darkened hallway. most of the ward was shut down for the night. But there was still a small bit of light from the nurses' station ahead. "But this is just preliminary, since you don't have security clearance to be in here. Just make a simple visual ID of the subject. You see her, tell me if she's the right one, then we get out."

"What?!" Rick's whisper was almost frantic. "What if we get caught! Hold on.... You said you've broken in to secure places like this for Trevor before. How did the last one turn out?"

Frechette smiled. "Oh, badly."

"Sir, can I help you?" A stern female voice called out from the lit area ahead.

Not batting an eye, Frechette stepped immediately forward into the light, a scowl on his face as he picked up a chart off the nurses' station and started going through it like it was the most natural thing in the world. Glancing quickly back to the dark area he had come from, he noticed there was no sign of Rick. Except for perhaps a soft, barely noticeable click in the shadows where a door had closed.

"Sir, I'll have to ask you again. You're not supposed to be in here. This is a security ward. Who--"

Frechette interrupted as his hand reached up and showed her his hospital administration badge with a disinterested air. "Yes, I'm one of the administrators for this medical group of hospitals."

Her eyes widened when she saw his credentials. "Administrator Frechette. Yes, sir. I'm sorry sir. Can I help you with something? And... weren't you with someone?" She looked back to the shadowed hallway.

Frechette was still going through the random chart as if it was exactly what he had came for. "No, I was alone. Perhaps you're seeing things. I need to speak to a particular paramedic that you have on call tonight. A Barbara Manners. Is she here?"

"Yes sir, she just left on a run doing a transfer. Picking up a sick prisoner from County lockup. She has an ETA of four minutes inbound."

"Uh-huh," Frechette said offhandedly, eyes staring absently at the chart in his hands but not reading a word as he flipped through it. Inside his mind was racing, jumping on the opportunity. "This patient their transferring. Did they every send a case file over?"

The woman blinked, uncertain. "Umm, yes. Of course."

Frechette looked at her coldly for several long moments, as if the next part should have been obvious. "Could you get the file for me please?"

"Umm, yes. Certainly." The woman got up, going into lit room in the back.

Frechette watched her go, before moving quickly back into the shadowed hallway he had come from, looking for the door Rick had hidden behind. Finding it, he pushed it open slightly, spotting Rick hiding within the empty patient room.

Frechette came into the shadows within and spoke to him, closing the door behind. "The target should be here any minute," he explained. "When the target comes in, we'll get a look at her."

"Ok, Stop saying 'the target'! I mean, really. Stop." Rick started pacing, on edge. "Ohh I think this is _such_ a bad idea."

Frechette blinked at his reaction. "You're nervous. Why? Don't you want to see the tar--... this woman?"

"Well of course. But I mean, breaking into her hospital... It's not the best way to reintroduce yourself to someone, you know?"

Nodding, Frechette considered it. "I understand. But she doesn't even have to see you. If you can get a visual confirmation that this is the same woman, then we'll proceed from there, and she'll never even have known you were here. So unless this patient transfer she's on is coming directly into this room--"

Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

"Administrator Frechette?" The charge nurse's voice came through. Rick scrambled around to hide, bumping into Frechette several times before ducking into the patient bathroom.

Without warning, the charge nurse opened the door and came in, turning on the room's lights just as the door closed where Rick was hiding. She looked at Frechette standing there. "Here's the patient file you wanted. And I wanted to let you know, they're pulling up now. I have to get the room ready."

"Oh. Very good. Thank you." Frechette seemed stiff as he took the new chart.

The nurse looked at him skeptically. "What were you doing in here?"

"Umm... going to the bathroom." He knew he shouldn't have said it the moment it left his lips.

Inside the bathroom, Rick was turning in place, listening to them, trying to follow Frechette ruse. Without thinking he reached out and flushed the toilet.

In the patient room, the nurse watched Frechette as several seconds after he had come out, the sound of a toilet flushing was finally heard.

Frechette's lips tightened and wrinkled. "The flush seems very delayed. Someone from maintenance should have a look at it in the morning. But not now. Definitely not now."

"Yes sir. Excuse me, can I get past? I have to set everything up."

"Oh yes, certainly." Frechette intentionally moved aside to block the bathroom door. He began to look through the file he had requested earlier, oblivious to what was inside as he flipped pages, and nodding far to much at what he was not reading. Instead he was watching the nurse out of the corner of his eye.

The charge nurse moved skeptically around the room, opening the closet, pulling out some sheets and taking the ones off the bed, before turning on various instruments and monitors in anticipation of the patient's arrival. As she went about her work preparing the bed, there was a suspicious glint in her eye as she watched Frechette watching her. Finally, she couldn't take any more of the attention on her and she turned to him. "Sir, are you sure you didn't come in with somebody? Because if you did, I would have to see their authorization. This is a security ward."

The bathroom door, slightly ajar as Rick listened seemed to close again in panic. Frechette coughed after the noise to try to cover it, stepping towards the woman and keeping her attention on him. "Check that monitor again. It seems it might have a problem. And I told you, miss. I was alone when I came into the ward."

"I see..."

Frechette's eyes kept following her as she continued her work, hoping against hop that she wouldn't approach the bathroom door. And then again, the woman noticed what he was doing. She stopped and looked over.

"Sir, you're looking at me."

Frechette swallowed, trying to sound convincing, but starting to lose his nerve. "Umm, is that a... is that a problem?"

The woman went back to getting the room ready, finishing with the new sheets on the bed. "It's sweet. But I'm married."

His eyes widened at what she thought. "No, that's not what I--.. It's not what I meant at all."

The woman actually smiled at him. "Uhh-huh. I need to go swipe the paramedic team through the security doors. But thank you, though."

She turned and walked out of the bright room, leaving Frechette sputtering behind her. When she was definitely gone, he turned back to the bathroom and opened the door slightly.

Rick's face could be seen through the small gap. "Doc, I gotta get out of here. This is getting out of hand!"

Frechette remained calm. "Just a quick glimpse, that's all we need. Look, the nurse is gone. We'll move you to another room before they see you, and then--"

Suddenly the room door behind them burst open and several people came in at once pushing a wheeled gurney with a patient on it. They fanned to either side of the bed, getting ready to transfer the patient off the gurney and set up more of the equipment. In contrast to a second before, now the room was filled with activity.

"Excuse me, sir." A female paramedic smiled at him, adjusting the wheeled gurney past him and next to the bed. The patient was sleeping, some young man covered in gang tattoos. Frechette however kept his eye on the female paramedic, studying her, wondering if Trevor had really found her after all. His gaze shifted to the bathroom door but it was completely shut, and he knew Rick couldn't see anything. Finally the shift nurse and the two paramedics started counting down together, before smoothly shifting the sleeping patient from the gurney to the bed, settling him in. After several long agonizing minutes, they finally had everything set, all the machines and I.V. were attached. Frechette wondered how he was going to get them out of the room.

"Sir, could I have that file sir? We have to sign him in." The female paramedic looked at him, waiting. He couldn't help but stare into her eyes, starting to see what Rick saw in her, and slowly growing impressed.

She, on the other hand, was growing uncomfortable. "Umm... the file, sir?"

Frechette came out of it. "What? Oh, yes. Of course."

Confused by his strange attention on her, the charge nurse and the female paramedic left side by side.

"Why's he staring at me like that?" she whispered to the charge nurse.

The charge nurse whispered back. "He was doing the same thing to me. Must be really hard up for a woman's touch."

The female paramedic scoffed. "Perv..."

The two women laughed quietly as they exited the room and moved down the darkened hallway, leaving Frechette alone with the sleeping patient. He thought about what the women said, needing an actual woman's touch, his eyes dropping. But then suddenly his body jerked to one side, grabbing the bathroom door and roughly pulling Rick out.

"Come on. We have to move," he said sternly.

Rick struggled free. "What? I'll be seen."

"It's now or never. Unless you want to wait back in there until they wake him and help him onto to the toilet."

"I see your point."

Taking a breath, the two men stepped into the darkened hallway, the light from the patient room still falling on them as Frechette waved Rick into the shadows further down the hall while he kept his eyes on the nurses station in the opposite direction. No one was looking at them, however. The two women busy signing papers in the patient's file heads down. All the while the male paramedic looked bored behind them. Until he spotted Frechette standing in the light of the patient's room. He stepped closer to the desk where the female paramedic was working.

"He's looking at you again."

The female paramedic looked over at Frechette, before shaking her head, finishing the paperwork.

"Freak..." she muttered simply.

Frechette backed into the shadows, joining Rick where he hid in the dark, the female paramedic easy to see at the other end of the hallway, standing at the well lit nurses station.

The charge nurse had gone into the back, but she returned to join the small group at the desk as Frechette and Rick continued watching them from the dark.

After a moment, Frechette asked. "So... is that her?"

Rick blinked. "Which one?"

"The paramedic. Is that the woman who was there with you? On the cliff?"

Rick watched her intently, studying her from afar. But his eyes were blank, and then he seemed even more nervous than before. "Umm, it's not her."

"You're positive?"

"Look, look, I'm sure. Can we get out of here?"

Frechette didn't understand, but he accepted it. "Ok. Let's go."

They were so far back they were only a few feet from the door with the card reader.. Frechette turned and swiped Trevor's hacked card over it, the LED going green. He opened the door into the hallway beyond, but the two men paused, looking at the pretty paramedic at the other end of the hall again.

"You sure?" Frechette asked, a tinge of skepticism there.

Rick seemed to come out of a daze, watching the woman. "Yeah, I'm sure. let's go."

Frechette stepped out of the security ward, but Rick paused a moment longer, giving the paramedic one last glance.

"It's... it's not her," he said softly, before slowly leaving and closing the door.

A late morning glow was flowing into Frechette's bedroom window as he lay sleeping face down, completely exhausted on the bed. Nestled under the covers, the man tossed back and forth after a very long night. Still asleep, his body continued to twist, before he softly called out, still encased in his own dreams.

"Faith..." he said softly, "Why have you left me? Where are--.... Faith!"

With a start, Frechette's head popped off the pillows and he suddenly awoke, squinting in the bright light falling on him. Shading his tired eyes from the glare with his palm, he rolled away from the sun and over to the part of the bed in shadow.

Looking up at the ceiling now, Frechette sighed, disappointed in himself.

He had dreamed about her again.

Some deep part of him knew this couldn't continue. He was dreaming about her every night, catching imagined glances of her even in his waking moments. Fleeting glimpses in the crowd, or remembered shadows out of the corner of his eye. Regardless, even when he didn't almost see her he was constantly thinking about her. Like a song playing softly at the edge of his hearing, a song that wouldn't go away. Maybe it was because he wanted more, wanted to hear it. The song wasn't enough. And he knew he had spotted her several times, even if she hadn't spoken to him. Maybe his mind had manufactured her, not needing the pretense of believing that she was actually there. But... hadn't it always been this way? Maybe it had it all been manufactured since the beginning. Had she ever been real? Or was he finally going mad.

With a groan, Frechette rose out of bed.

With an all too similar groan, Rick also woke up in the trashed out disaster of his cluttered, messy apartment. On his back, his eyes opened to look at his bedroom ceiling much as Frechette had done. He sighed when he realized he was awake and breathing, his voice full of disappointment.

Damn... Still here," he said softly.

Finally realizing he hadn't died in the night, Rick sat up, dreading the fact that he now faced another day. He thought about what had happened to him... the long night sneaking into the hospital with Frechette, the insane mission a crazy man named Trevor had enlisted him into... and he honestly didn't know how he had come to this point. Of course that had been true for several years now anyway.

Rick looked around his apartment again, feeling caught in a loop with no escape. Here, there was no morning light flowing in. He usually kept his windows closed and the blinds shut. But he could still tell it was morning by the tiny amount of light leaking past the edges.

Still in bed, he shook his head, feeling terrible. Trevor had kept him so busy lately that he suddenly realized he had been drinking less. Now his throbbing temples were making him pay for his lack of alcohol. Maybe that had been Trevor's plan all along, to subtly clean him up and make him more presentable. Well, it wasn't working, and now all he had was a headache to show for it.

Rick groaned softly as the bed creaked and he staggered out of it, steadying his weary body.

He spoke to himself as he shambled slowly forward.

"Man... This has really got to stop."

"This has to stop..." Frechette was talking to himself as well, looking around his clean, elegantly furnished home. Even now he half expected to catch a fleeting glimpse of Faith there, at the edge of his sight, but always gone if he turned to see. The thought of that filled him with a soft, quiet fear. It was all in his head, he told himself again. All of it. Maybe it had been exactly that, all along. Frechette felt nervous, tense. Now he really was afraid that he was losing his mind.

Thinking about it, a resolve settled over Frechette's face, walking forward now with a certainty to his step. He knew what he had to do.

A gold door handle turned and Frechette walked into his home study, looking around at the elegant interior of polished wood, dark and luxurious. Stepping to the side he opened a drawer by his desk, looking down into it. Finally, he spoke to himself.

"Maybe it's the only solution..."

"But it can't be."

Rick came back into his bedroom, looking at the small night stand beside his bed. "It can't be the only solution."

Standing there, he thought about the liquor in the living room and the beer in the fridge. Thought about all the drinking he had and had not been doing the past few months. Then he looked over at the night stand again. Slowly... he walked over to it and pulled open the top drawer. Seeing what was inside, he paused and closed his eyes, thinking.

"Has it really come to this?"

"Maybe it has come to this. I don't know," Frechette said to himself in a hesitant voice, looking down into the open drawer in his study.

"These visions need to stop. Maybe it's the only way."

In his bedroom, Rick opened his eyes and looked fearfully into the drawer.

"The only way to break the cycle."

"The only way to break the delusion," Frechette said as he reached down. "To not feel her absence anymore."

"The only way to make it stop." Rick reached into his drawer too. "The only way to get out of this."

Slowly, Frechette pulled his hand up, out of the drawer. His fingers held a small, cylindrical pill container, the contents shifting as he lifted it closer, reading the label.

THORAX-B.

Rick slowly reached down into the drawer beside his bed, fingers wrapping around what was inside. The grip of the handle, the metal of the trigger felt cold in his palm. But he hadn't lifted it out of the drawer yet.

Frechette exhaled as he looked at the pill container, the last few samples of his failed, experimental drug. Suddenly reluctant, he tried to decide. He knew it would work. It would chemically free him of his visions. He would never see Faith again. But he didn't know what to do.

Holding the cold metal in his hands, Rick knew it would be so easy. One squeeze and it was all over. He just had to take it out of the drawer. Simple enough.

His grip tightened, and he started to lift it, feeling heavy in his hand. It rose up to finally reveal the--

"No." Frechette said sharply, putting the pills away and closing the drawer.

In his bedroom, Rick paused, his hand still inside the drawer of his night stand. The moment seemed to stretch. And finally, he let out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, before lowering his hand and letting it go. Collapsing down to sit on the bed nearby, he closed the drawer.

Frechette nodded, growing certain. "No. I'll handle this in my own way."

Rick looked at his night stand for a long time. He remembered the first time he had meet Frechette, the conversation on his doorstep. Remembered mentioning what he had in that drawer, a way for them to be free of Trevor's constant manipulations. He remembered what Frechette had said, and he smiled as he repeated the words.

"Let's call it Plan B."

Feeling better after his moment of darkness, Rick got up and walked into the kitchen, thinking that it was morning, and something was missing. Finally he realized what it was.

"Trevor' usually pestering us by now," he said to himself. "I wonder what he's up to?"

Trevor was pacing worriedly before his front door, waiting for Claire.

The deepening winter sunset was glowing a rich yellow as it angled in through the large front windows at Taggerty's. The light streamed past the bar's name where it was painted on the glass and into the warmth within. The shadows of the lettering fell onto the table where Frechette and Rick were sitting, bathing the two of them in a mosaic of light and dark as they continued their discussion.

"This has got to stop, Ian. You know that. We can't keep doing this day after day, night after night."

Frechette looked at him, agreeing. "I concur. What do you suggest?"

Rick's eyes were steady. "We both know what's really going on here. Why the two of us are his proxies. Trevor's too afraid to come out of the shadows he's hiding in, to afraid to do all this himself."

"I know," Frechette nodded. "But I suppose it's understandable."

Rick didn't understand. "What? How? How can he accept a life where he locks himself away."

Frechette seemed sad. "We chose our demons, Rick. They don't chose us. And the impetus of that choice for Trevor or anyone else is always the same. Fear."

"Fear..." Rick thought about it, looking away.

Frechette seemed lost in his thoughts as well, growing introspective as he continued, staring at nothing.

"Maybe he's afraid of how the world will look at him if he tells them the truth. If he showed them who he really was, what he feels, what he sees. Revealed what is happening deep in his heart. If he actually told people the truth, people would think he was crazy. Maybe... maybe he can't handle that."

Frechette looked down embarrased.

Still lost in his own head, Rick answered, his gaze unfocussed and aimless. "No. He's not afraid of that. I don't think Trevor's ever been afraid of showing people he's Cupid. If there was ever someone wearing his heart on his sleeve, it's him. And doing it proudly. No. What scares him is what he has to lose now. Losing someone. Eventually being forced to leave to Olympus, or go away to a mental facility. Or instead... watching people die as he keeps on living, and not able to do anything about it. Standing there in the rain... helpless."

Frechette paused, and then blinked. Across the table from him, Rick did the same thing. The two of them tried clearing their heads as if coming out of a daydream as the afternoon sun fell warmly on them through the window.

A question in his eyes, Frechette looked back towards him. "The two of us are still talking about Trevor, right?"

Rick cleared his throat, uncomfortable, playing it off. "Yeah. Umm... Of course."

Frechette nodded. "Good."

Getting back to task at hand, Rick's voice grew more determined. "What Trevor's really afraid of is losing Claire. He's not hiding from public ridicule or possible arrest charges from some incident years ago. Or even from killing Faith in self defense. He's hiding from being forced to leave Claire behind. He's scared to death of getting his hundred beads. Like some expiration date on the lunatic fringe. "

"Expiration..." Frechette finally saw it. "I can't believe I didn't see this earlier. Trevor's immortal. He can't die. But his hundred beads... they've become his unique version of 'mortality'. His own private time limit... for staying with Claire."

Rick nodded. "And deep inside, he can't help being who he is. Still wanting to put people together."

Frechette locked his gaze on Rick's. "And so you and I are his proxies. Because he hopes that way it doesn't count."

Rick seemed to agree.

"While Trevor hides in the shadows. Afraid of what actually being Cupid might ultimately mean. But unable to stop going through the motions... Acting only through us." Rick leaned back, looking away. "It's all ridiculous of course. Cupid. Immortality. His hundred meaningless beads. None of it is real. Doesn't mean he can't become trapped in his own delusion."

"In one way or another, most people are..." Frechette said off handedly, still thinking about what he had just discovered, "I... I never saw. I've always been a faithful follower. Tried to help the God of Love.... but I never saw. He's a god in need."

Rick chuckled at Frechette's unbreakable faith, expecting nothing less from a true believer.

Frechette looked back at him. "You should tell him."

Rick blinked. "What?"

Frechette leaned forward, his voice growing more certain now. "I'm a believer. You're not. Either way it doesn't matter. Because no matter which is true, he still needs our help. He needs this to stop. Trevor's not really living this way, trapped in his own walls, his own fears, with us as his proxies."

Rick couldn't argue. "I suppose...."

Frechette gave him a meaningful look. "You're the one who wanted to save him. Perhaps you still can."

What do you mean?"

"Talk to him. Make him see."

Rick thought about it. "All I know is I can't keep doing this. Hounded by Trevor 24\7."

Frechette went over the options in his head. "What we need is an intervention."

"We need more than that." Rick leaned in close, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "What we need is a mutiny."

"What?" Frechette's eyes went wide with shock.

"The two of us quitting."

"Quitting?"

Yes, A unified front. The skeptic and the believer. Telling him it's over. We're done. Adios."

"I ..." Frechette paused, uncertain. "I don't know if I--"

"Ian," Rick pressed further. "We need this! Time for a good old fashioned coup. We overthrow the God of Love. Stop playing his game. Force him to see."

Frechette said nothing, feeling nervous about the prospects of going against a man he had come to revere as an immortal. Then a strength grew in him, fragile, but there. He was finally able to meet Rick's eyes again before speaking.

"Ok... We'll tell him. We'll tell him together. Tonight."

_To be continued... _


	4. Chapter 4

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"I can't do this. I can't do this..."

Muttering softly, Dr. Ian Frechette was pacing nervously on a darkened sidewalk, standing several houses down from Trevor and Claire's home. It was the middle of the night, shadows and silence all around the calm suburban street as he paced there alone, waiting, indecisive. He was waiting for Rick to meet him there, so they could both walk over to Trevor's house in a unified front, knowing full well what they planned to do.

Inside his chest, Frechette's feelings were churning, wave after wave of wildly conflicting emotions tumbling over him, each change and fluctuation leaving him frightened and uncertain. he continued to pace back and forth nervously, as if unsure where to go, what to do. Some small analytical part of him realized the sensation was simply a physical manifestation of the indecision he struggled with inside, but he ignored that. Still pacing, his body and his mind moved back and forth over all the possible consequences of what was about to happen.

For a moment, his body paused, going tight. He looked over at the house in the distance. Even from here he could see the curtain drawn back form the large living room window. And glowing through the glass, a red light shining like a beacon. And just barely perceptible on the glass, the light vaguely illuminated the outline of a heart, hastily scotch taped to the window, tiny in the distance.

Frechette watched the house, thinking. It was already late into the night. That light must have been glowing for hours now, calling for him, calling for Rick. Yet so far, it had gone unanswered. Trevor must be wondering where they were by now. He was calling him. The god of love was calling him. Calling for his help.

What felt like a cold blanket of smothering doubt suddenly engulfed him, and his stomach twisted as he started pacing even faster than before. His mind continued to evaluate what he believed, _who_ he believed in, and what he and Rick were about to do. So why was he even considering this?

Coming to a stop on the sidewalk in the middle of the night and all alone, Frechette finally shook his head.

"No... I can't... I can't do this."

He turned his back on the red window light glowing in the distance, and started to walk away. But then a soft voice from the darkness stopped him. "Ian... "

Pausing, slowly Frechette turned, and suddenly his heart lifted when he realized Faith was there. She looked at him sadly, however, her features dim in the low light.

"Rick's right.." she told him sadly. "About Trevor."

Frechette took a step off the sidewalk and closer to her, moving onto the grass, eager to be near her again. But he stopped when he saw her take a small, subtle, step back. He decided instead to keep his distance, feeling uncertain and afraid to push things. He didn't want to lose her being there, uncertain of how close she would be willing to accept.

"Faith, where have you been? It's been over a week and I haven't seen you or heard you at all."

The beautiful blond woman still looked at him sadly, but she didn't answer his question. Instead Faith repeated what she had said.

"Rick is right. About Trevor. He is afraid. Scared. Not wanting to leave you--" Awkward, she stumbled over her words for a moment, before trying to get them back. "I mean... Claire. Not wanting to leave Claire."

Frechette blinked at her slip, looking at her. He continued, addressing her statement.

"You have no real way of knowing, Faith. Not with any certainty. How can someone know what goes on in a god's mind? How can any of us _really_ know?"

"I know, Ian." She looked down. "I know it's true because it's the same thing that happened to me. When I was alive... I was doing the exact same thing. I had spent years searching for something, until I finally found him. Found Cupid. Found the god of love in the flesh. There he was. Real. Alive. Slowly collecting beads... slowly leaving me. Each bead one step closer. To tearing him away when I had barely found him. His every success left me devastated. I started trying to ruin his matches, to keep him with me."

Thinking about it, Frechette watched her. "If he's afraid he'll have to leave, then... why doesn't he just stop?"

Faith's voice sounded tragic. "He can't... Deep down. It's who he is. He still wants people to find love, to be together in love. So now he's living halfway, a shadow between doing what it takes to stay with the person he loves, and being what he can't stop being. Something else I... understand as well. That's why he's protecting himself, with you and Rick as his proxies. Trevor's in love. And for the first time his biggest fear now... is what he has to lose."  
Frechette shook his head. "Trevor's a god. Gods have no fear."

"Oh, no." Sadly, Faith looked up at him. "Even gods get scared."

Frechette was quiet for a few moments, thinking.

Faith continued. "Trevor needs this, Ian. To live again."

With a frown, Frechette looked over to Trevor's house where the red light was still glowing faintly through the window, like a beacon in the night. And as he did, he thought about the god of love encased in the house's walls, too afraid to step outside. It all seemed so clear for a moment.

He took a deep breath, accepting it. Faith's voice continued behind him.

"We all have fears, Ian."

He turned to look at her. "What's my fear?"

Her lips broke into a quiet smile, as if she was amused.

"How the world will see you," she answered simply.

Out of nowhere, footsteps could be heard approaching from the sidewalk behind them, and Rick called out.

"Hey..."

Frechette turned towards the man approaching him, waiting with Faith standing beside him.

"Ummm..." As he moved closer and onto the frozen grass, Rick paused, scanning the area but seeing nothing around them. He gave Frechette a skeptical look. "Who were you talking to?"

Sparing a quick glance for Faith standing next to him, Frechette answered, his voice unwavering.

"A friend."

Rick pointedly looked around, seeing no one there. Dubious, he turned back to Frechette. "Right..."

Amused, Frechette lowered his head.

Standing there and feeling awkward for a moment, Rick reached into his coat pocket and removed a small flask.

"For the chill in the night air," he explained, removing the cap and taking a drink, as if trying to gather his courage. Putting it away again he scoffed.

"Can't believe we're out here in the middle of the night doing this. All to straighten out some deluded 'god of love'." Rick's final words dripped with sarcasm.

Calmly, Frechette looked at him without anger, his voice full of conviction.

"He is the god of love."

Skeptical, Rick nodded. Hi gaze wandered all around Frechette, still seeing nothing, no one with him. He looked back into Frechette's eyes, speaking good naturedly.

"So, you were talking with a friend, huh? You're a little strange, aren't you?"

Unexpectedly, Faith laughed.

The sound was bright and alive in Frechette's ears, bathing him in a warmth and elation as the woman stood beside him. He looked at her with a smile before facing an oblivious Rick again.

"You have no idea..."

Slowly following Frechette's grin with one of his own, Rick nodded. Without another word the two men started walking towards Trevor's house, dark before them in the distance, the red light glowing faintly through the front window. Rick looked over at Frechette as they walked. "Come on, proxy man. Time to tell a god where to shove it."

"Trevor, could you please sit down?"

Already darting frantically back and forth the second the two of them had entered, Trevor didn't acknowledge Rick's words, instead full of pent up energy as he did several things at once. He was opening and flattening crumpled notes from his greek cigar box, cross referencing with phone books or stacks of old newspapers, and always moving quickly past the two men in either direction, in full Cupid Central mode. Like a ball of captured intensity, his words came at them at a mile a minute.

"Hey, no time for me to be sitting, minions. Not when I made coffee. I want coffee. Made it. Drank the coffee. Lots of coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. Where have you guys been? We've already lost most of the night! Never mind that. Never mind that now. Time to get cracking like Athena's bedpost when Zeus is away. We gotta move, gotta shake, gotta get back on mission. Stay on target, stay on target, loosen up! Oh the number of times I heard that screamed in the distance from out of Athena's bedchambers. Gotta go, can't stop now. Not when I--"

Trevor paused, looking over at the two of them meaningfully, completely pleased with himself.

"I have... IDEAS."

As Trevor started moving back and forth again, Frechette calmly walked over to him. He reached out and carefully touched Trevor on the shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

"Trevor, please... Sit down."

The older psychiatrist looked into Trevor's eyes, an expression of complete seriousness on his face.

Behind them, Rick was already pulling out a chair from the dining room table, turning it away to face an empty part of the room.

Trevor blinked, everything going still. He looked at the two of them, their gazes somber. The room seemed to pause, quite in anticipation. Trevor finally spoke, his voice uncertain.

"Ok... should I be getting a blindfold and a last cigarette here?"

Rick and Frechette said nothing.

Slowly Trevor moved over to the chair and reluctantly lowered himself into it. The two other men walked over to stand shoulder to shoulder before him, looking down.

Feeling uncomfortable, Trevor gazed up at them. "Ok, guys... What's up?"

Frechette shared a quick glance with Rick before beginning.

"Master Cupid... this is an intervention."

Trevor scoffed without thinking, sure it was a joke. But when he looked back up at the two of them, he paused, seeing their faces. "Intervention? What's that supposed to mean?"

Rick spoke up as Frechette turned away. "It means we're not your 'love minions' anymore. We quit."

"Look, guys--" Trevor tried to get up out of the chair. That was a mistake. The palm of Rick's hand suddenly shoved him back down into the chair, hard. Rick was obviously in his full cop mode now, and as Trevor looked up at him, he suddenly seemed to notice how large the looming man was.

"What this means is that we're done, Trevor." He leaned in closer, looking into Trevor's eyes with a hard stare. "We're done jumping through hoops. Running around. Taking your advice, or following your orders. Or 'subbing in for your own dreams."

Growing angry, Trevor finally did stand up, and Rick didn't have time to stop him. He stood face to face with the larger man, unafraid. "What's THAT supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means, Trevor." Frechette said, nodding calmly before looking over at him. "You've been using us as proxies. For something your afraid of doing yourself."

"That's ridiculous," Trevor tried to laugh it off as he turned away, but he didn't sound very convincing. "What could I possibly be afraid of?"

"Of losing Claire..."

Rick said it simply, and it stopped Trevor in his tracks.

His voice softer now, Rick looked at Trevor with a seriousness in his eyes. ""This is something new for you, 'Cupid'. Loving someone. Losing someone. Someone important. Before it was simple. You were an 'immortal'. Moving through life. No attachments. No commitments to anyone. But now... you're in love. With your wife, with your child. You're connected now. To something beautiful, and fragile, and finite. And... mortal. This is what it is. Being mortal. And it scares you to death. I don't know if you're Cupid or not. But you're so afraid of being forced back to Olympus, it's become your own personal form of 'mortality'. So you have me and Frechette doing all your dirty work. Because deep down, you hope that way it doesn't count."

The anger seemed to leave Trevor, but he still couldn't meet the men's gazes, looking down. "It's not like that."

Rick pressed on. "Isn't it? You here, living in secret, hardly leaving this house. Who in their right mind would accept something like that? Or even you?" Trevor looked over at the implied comment as Frechette smiled in the background, but Rick continued. "As long as Ian and I are your proxies, you'll always be living in the shadows."

A fiery glint returned to Trevor's eye, his words edged. "Hey, look at your own life, man. Look at how you're living. I'm not the one in the shadows."

Rick nodded, not offended. When he spoke again, there was a sadness to his words. "Yes you are. We both are... You ever ask yourself why you've been sneaking out? It's because despite the risks, you can't stop being who you are. Trevor, you don't want this. You want to live again."

Trevor looked over at Frechette. "You agree with this?"

Frechette nodded. "Yes I do, Trevor."

Not accepting it, Trevor shook his head, looking at them. "You guys can't do this. Look, this isn't about me. It's about you. Both of you. Frechette, you need something, someone, in your life that makes you happy. Makes you come alive!"

"There is someone special in my life, Trevor."

Trevor looked at him skeptically. "Yeah, who?"

"Well--"

Interrupting, Trevor turned his attention back to Rick. "And you. You still need to win your girl back. Or at least be able to face her again. Who cares about restraining orders! That was her, that night in the hospital, wasn't it?"

Not meeting his gaze, Rick looked down. "No."

Trevor smiled triumphantly. "It was her. I knew it! You need to face her man. Get this behind you. You're the ones needing help, not me. Look, we can--"  
"Trevor, I lied!"

Everyone in the room looked at Rick for a long moment, before he continued.

"Maybe you're right, Trevor. Maybe she's one of the many things I need to get past. But I lied to you. She's not even in Chicago. Not anymore. Hasn't been for months. That's not why I stayed. I stayed in Chicago because of you. I wanted to know what I could have done different, try to get a feel for you, how you lived, here. I guess some part of me is still trying to save you. To find out what I did wrong. To figure out one part of my life, even though the whole world thinks you're dead. And then I found you here, real and alive, but just as good as dead."

"But--" Trevor began.

"Np! No, more excuses. No more diversions. YOu're hiding from yourself, Trevor! From who you really are inside. So it's time you looked at some hard cold facts. Yes. Someday, you WILL lose Claire. Lose every single person you've met, every single person you love. Maybe even watch them die. But you can't just live waiting for everything else to die. Be Cupid, Trevor! The world needs a Cupid, but you need it more. You've said it yourself. Grab the sky! Make yourself the tallest thing for miles!"

Behind them, Frechette was thinking as he listened to Rick, applying Rick's words to himself and lost in his own introspection.

Rick continued. "What kind of person hides who they really are?"

Pausing with disbelief, Trevor spread his arms as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "All of them!"

"And you of all people accept that? If you're going to be Cupid then be Cupid! Who cares what the world thinks, what the world says. You didn't used to! You used to be Cupid, THE God of Love, look out, I'm charging through, torpedoes be damned! All these things, these feeling inside of you, it's time to show them again, let them out. Cupid should make his matches himself. Isn't that the way it's supposed to be?"

Trevor seemed even more uncomfortable, stepping back. ""Guys, you're making something big out of nothing, here."

His gaze unfocused on the floor, Frechette still seemed lost in his own thoughts, thinking about what Rick was saying. Until suddenly his gaze changed, lifting slightly in understanding. When he finally spoke, his words were quiet, clear and simple.

"My god, Rick's right."

The two men turned from their argument and spoke simultaneously. "What?"

"I just never saw it before. What Rick was saying. I have to face certain things. Like..." Frechette paused, and for a moment it seemed as if some part of him was surrendering, like a wall was disappearing. He lifted his gaze, a sense of wonder in his eyes at the growing revelation inside. "... like the fact that I don't need someone I love in my life because I already have someone I love in my life. I really do, Trevor. "

The tiniest of smiles appeared on Frechette's face, his eyes twinkling happily as he looked at Trevor.

Skeptical, Trevor replied. "You have someone. Really? YOU?"

Looking down, Frechette nodded. "I never imagined that I would reveal this to anyone, but... There's this woman. A woman I've been--" Frechette paused with a small chuckle. "A woman I've been _'seeing'_."

He looked back up at Trevor again, and both of the other men in the room could see that Frechette's heart was lifting.

What Frechette saw... was that Faith was there, watching him with a smile.

Slowly she walked past, moving behind Trevor, a warmth in her eyes. Her gaze remained locked on Frechette's as his eyes followed her. No one else in the room seemed to notice her. The two of them shared a quiet moment, Frechette's body tingling, before finally he continued.

"Trevor... I'm in love with Faith."

Trevor blinked in surprise, not sure he had heard right. "What?"

Rick blinked too. "Umm... what he said."

"Yes." Frechette kept his eyes on her, adoration on his face. She was more beautiful than he had ever imagined.

The other two men watched Frechette's reaction, strangely, confused at the look on his face as he stared at nothing.

Trevor stepped forward. "Ian, that's... crazy. She died years ago. I'm the one who shot her for me's sake! Faith's dead."

"Only a little..." Frechette nodded. "I know all that, Trevor. All that happened. But even though you killed her, the rest of her is still here. I've been seeing here for years. And now I can't deny the truth anymore. Hiding what I feel. How much of my life have I been hiding away, Trevor? Living in secret? Rick's right. Not just for you, but for me as well. And I should listen to him. I'm in love with Faith."

His voice full of sympathy, Trevor stepped closer, putting a hand on Frechette's shoulder as he looked into his eyes. "She's gone, Ian."

Like it was the most obvious thing in the world, Frechette spoke simply. "No she isn't. She's right here. Over there by the door." He nodded towards Faith.

Faith smiled back.

As one, Rick and Trevor slowly turned their heads towards the door. There was nothing there. Frechette was staring adoringly at empty space.

Oblivious to their reactions, Frechette continued, not looking away fro her. "She's beautiful, Trevor. And I'm in love with her."

Trevor carefully removed his hand from Frechette's shoulder. And without any abrupt motions, he raised his hands, palms forward, and slowly started backing away. "Ohhh...kayy..."

Frechette was still looking at Faith. "And she loves me too. In ways I never knew could happen for me."

Trevor kept backing further away, until he realized he was getting near the door. He jerked away, looking at the empty air as if afraid he would bump something. his gaze darted back and forth between that empty space and Frechette. He chose his words carefully.

"So let me get this straight. You're dating a dead person... who only you can see."

"Yes, Trevor. Because of you/ I finally found her. Found myself."

Trevor tried to console him. "I understand that want. I understand that desire, that need. Hey, believe me I do. But she's only in your head, man. There's no bead here."

"No's she's not. And yes, there is." Happier than anyone had ever seen him, Frechette walked over and grabbed Trevor by the shoulders, hugging him gratefully for a long moment before turning away.

Trevor's voice was louder as Frechette broke the hug, trying a different tact. "Frechette--... Ian! You're a respected psychiatrist. Leader of the community. Who's currently dating a figment of your imagination! If you think they call me crazy, well..."

Trevor scoffed, wiggling his head and lifting his hands at the implication, at a loss for words.

Frechette, however, seemed at peace. "Doesn't matter what they call me. Just matters that I'm in love. Trevor... you have your bead."

"No I don't. What are you doing?" Trevor asked as suddenly Frechette moved past him and into the darkened living room where the beads were hastily strung up in the glow of the red lamp shining out through the window. Trevor followed nervously, right behind. "Um, Ian, really, what are you doing?"

"Updating your score." Searching, he paused, looking for the end of the line before reaching up.

Trevor's voice was louder, almost frantic.

"You don't get a bead for imaginary girlfriends! Hey, you can't just-- Don't touch the beads! Never touch the beads! What are you-- Don't do that!"

Frechette easily slid the last bead in line over to the true love section, before turning triumphantly back to Trevor. Trevor watched the line of beads in shock, expecting the bead to slide back, knowing it would slide back. But it didn't. His jaw slowly lowered slightly, speechless. Until his confusion was interrupted by Frechette, when he grabbed Trevor by the shoulders again and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, leaving an even more stupefied expression on Trevor's face.

"Thank you, Cupid."

Letting out a happy, satisfied exhalation, Frechette walked over to the front door, a bounce in his step as Trevor stared at him. Pausing with his hand on the knob, he looked back at the two men proudly, his back straight, his chest full. and like a triumphant hero after a great victory, he finally spoke to them. "_'It is a far better resting place I go to, than I have ever known'_."

With a wave and a flourish, he opened the door and stepped out into the night.

Once it closed behind him, it left the other two men in silence within the room.

Coming back from what had just happened, Trevor wiped his mouth. "Why do crazy people always want to kiss me?"

With a pouty, off putt expression, he moved back over to Rick. "He touched the beads... You see that?"

Rick's turned his eyes down. His voice was soft as he spoke. "He's more courageous than either of us. More alive. Because he decided to live, to show who he is. While you and I... where the dead ones hiding in here."

Trevor glanced at him for a moment. "You're a belly full of laughs."

"Maybe Frechette's the sane one."

"Him?!" Trevor shook his head. "The man's crazy. He's a total nut! You heard what he said."

"Maybe he is crazy. But at least he isn't afraid to show it. Can you say the same?"

Trevor sighed. "Not this again..."

"Yes this again. Be Cupid, Trevor. Instead of just dancing in the shadows. I'll be honest. I don't know if I believe you or not. The world is a harsh, cruel place. Sometimes it's hard to believe in good things. But one thing I do know. That a harsh, cruel world... needs a Cupid."

Seeing Trevor's reluctance, Rick started quoting. "_'It won't be easy. You'll have to do some stupid things. Reckless things. Things that scare you to death. Can you do that?'_ "

Trevor paused, surprised at hearing his own words spoken back to him. And now, confronted with the very questions he had asked of Rick, he didn't know how to answer.

"Well... Well, I..."

Trevor said nothing for several moments. As Rick watched, something inside him... finally gave up.

"Ok..." Rick's energy seemed to leave him, and he shook his head. "I get it. I don't mean you. I don't think anyone well ever get you. But I think I finally understand something about myself. I finally.... see."

Trevor blinked. "What do you see?"

Rick paused, his body straining towards the door, uncertain if he should tell him. "I watched you fall off that cliff, Trevor. I watched you die. And now years later, visiting a grave that you allow to keep existing, you're still dead. And some part of me is still trying to save you. Guess in my head you'll always be up on that cliff."

Rick turned and moved past him, certain.

"Wait... " Fear crossed Trevor's eyes as he walked with him. "What are you doing?"

"Leaving."

"Leaving? Why?"

"Because I understand now."

Rick walked back into the well lit dining room, gathering his coat and putting it on. Trevor followed behind, about to lose a second follower in as many minutes.

"Rick, wait! We can talk about this. Wait. Tell me. What do you understand!"

Rick was already headed to the front door with Trevor at his heels when Trevor stopped him, hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, man," Trevor said. "Tell me what you understand. I deserve that much."

Slowly, Rick let go of the door handle and sighed, looking at nothing. After a long moment, he removed a flask from his coat pocket that he hadn't touched in a week. Opening the top, he placed it to his lips, leaned it back and took a drink. Turning, he looked right at Trevor as they stood by the front door, answering his question.

"You can't save everyone."

With that, Rick opened the front door and stepped outside, leaving in a far more somber fashion than Frechette had. He said nothing else, not looking back. Slowly the door closed, leaving Trevor silent and motionless in the dark.

With a sigh, Trevor turned away from the door where the last of his two disciples had left. He shifted his gaze, and he finally saw a little girl, watching through the railing of the stairs leading up to the second floor.

Bliss was there, obviously having been drawn out of her bedroom upstairs by all of the voices and activity. The tiny girl had watched everything, sitting there quietly behind the railing of the stairs.

Trevor frowned, feeling guilty that all the commotion had wakened her. The thought passed through his mind that she was the child that never spoke unnecessarily aroused by the older children that did. Slowly the little girl came down the steps and walked over to her despondent looking father. A tiny hand reached out, gently taking his. Trevor fell to one knee, looking at his daughter. She looked at Trevor with sympathy, as if he had just lost all his play friends. After a moment she hugged him, filling Trevor with warmth. Pulling back, she looked into her father's eyes, and her lips finally moved.

"It's time to talk now, daddy."

A look of wonder passed across Trevor's face, hearing his daughter's voice for the first time. Trevor looked at Bliss for a long moment. The little girl smiled quietly, and Trevor understood, seeing it all so clearly.

Reaching forward, he hugged his tiny daughter again, kissing the top of her head as out of nowhere, music began to play. And as it played... another sound could be heard; the sound of a phone ringing. Until finally, a familiar voice answered.

"_Welcome to Love Notes. You're on the air with Claire Allen. How may I help you?_"

The night skies started to brighten over the frozen stretch of the city of Chicago, slowly filling with light over the darkened horizon.

In the chilled pre morning air of the cemetery, a foot stepped forward. The icy grass crunched underneath and slid past as the music played. Barely seen, the shadows of tombstones looming hazily beyond.

Claire was in her studio, waiting for the caller on the line to respond as she adjusted the headphones over her ears to a more comfortable position, readjusting the microphone hanging before her as well. After a moment, she blinked at the silence on the line. The caller had still not answered, so she tried again.

"Caller, you're on the air. This is Love Notes. Go ahead..."

The foot at the cemetery stepped forward again, still crunching on the grass as the musical guitar chords continued to play. The unseen person above continued to walk forward, certain, moving through the grave markers. The other foot came into view as the frozen grass slid by.

Back in the studio, Claire frowned, lowering her head as she listened, waiting for the caller to respond. Then the person on the line finally spoke.

"_I have a problem. I haven't been honest,_" the caller said. "_Honest with myself._"

Frechette's apartment was quiet, covered in a silent, delicate shadow. Until keys clinked in the door and it swung open. The happy face of the older bearded psychiatrist appeared as he stepped in, stopping on the doorstep of his home. He saw Faith standing there inside, smiling at him. Tenderly, he closed the door and walked over to her as Trevor's voice was heard over the scene.

"_I haven't been honest with who I am. What I am._"

Claire blinked as she sat before her microphone, pausing unexpectedly when she recognized the voice. Try to keep her composure, she gathered her thoughts before answering. "That's... interesting phrasing, caller. Umm... who do you feel you need to be? What's missing from your life?"

I close both locks below the window

Rick was at home in his dilapidated, low budget apartment, the trashed surroundings still in their usual state of disarray. Squinting over at the young morning sun's edge shining in through the window, he reached over to it and clicked the window lock shut, before lowering the blinds and dropping himself into darkness. He took a drink from the alcohol flask he carried and turned away.

I close both blinds and turn away

In his house, Frechette's reached forward and opened up the window blinds, raising them up to reveal a bright view of the city and the sun rising beyond. Trevor's voice was heard speaking to Claire again.

"_What am I missing? Me... I'm missing me from my life, Claire._"

Sometimes delusions aren't so simple

In her studio, Claire blinked. Her eyes darted nervously over to her producer who was watching her from behind the control booth glass, Wondering if she had recognized Trevor's voice too. With a small swallow, Claire continued.

"Tr-...Caller. Are you sure you should be calling here?"

Trevor's voice answered. "_ I have to. I have to talk to you first. Just the two of us now, Sparky._ "

Sometimes good bye's the only way

The footsteps of the person moving through the graveyard were faster now, more certain.

Inside Rick's apartment, the room grew darker as one by one, Rick turned off all the lights.

In Frechette's home, his hand gently reached forward, a lit match held in his fingers as one by one, he lit candle after candle, filling the room with a dancing glow.

And the sun will set for you.

Back at his and Claire's home, Trevor stood motionless in the darkened living room, the phone nestled to his ear. His eyes lowered as he waited, but he heard nothing. His voice was quiet.

"Claire? Are you there?"

And the sun will set for you.

Claire paused, swallowing again in her studio. But as she listened to the sound of his voice, hearing it soft in her ears, it seemed the rest of the world dropped away. And for a moment, it really felt like it was just the two of them. Her voice grew tender too, a voice meant just for him, a lover's voice full of concern, and asking honestly.

"Tell me. What are you feeling?"

And the shadow of the day, will embrace the world in gray

Looking out his living room window, Trevor watched as the sky got dimly brighter beyond.

"I have to get my life back, Claire. I can't--... I can't lie to myself anymore."

Her voice came through the phone and it nearly broke his heart. "_But, it's more than that. Isn't it._"

And the sun will set for you...

Trevor looked down, his eyes glittering slightly with moisture. "I'm scared, Claire. Scared to death of getting my 100. Scared of losing you. But I can't. Can't liv my life from the shadows anymore. Hiding from all I'm afraid to lose."

Claire's eyes were sympathetic as she heard Trevor's voice.

"No one should have to live that way," she said.

He spoke again through her headphones. "_ I see people around me, Claire. Taking chances..._ "

In the gentle, fluttering light of the candles spread around the room like a sea of stars, Frechette slowly walked past, looking out the uncovered window as the pre morning sky over Chicago brightened and turned a 1000 different colors one after another. Outline against its light he turned and extended his hand. Faith's hand touched his as she came into view., squeezing it tight. The two of them looked adoringly into the other's eyes as Trevor's voice was heard again.

"_...unstoppable. Unafraid. Diving to the bottom of the pool without caring about the water. Making themselves the tallest thing for miles. That used to be me._"

Another footstep moved across the frozen grass.

Cards and flowers on your window,

Standing alone in the darkness of his apartment, Rick tossed aside the beer bottle he had just emptied and reached for another one from the open fridge before him. Even the light inside was busted out. As he pulled his hand , his eyes paused and looked at the loaded gun on the kitchen counter next to the sink, where he had left it. He thought about it for a long moment, thinking about why he kept it there.

"Plan B..." he mumbled softly, his hand hovering above it, before pulling away.

Your friends all plead for you to stay...

Rick plopped down on his worn recliner, the new bottle in hand as he picked up the remote and turned on the tv, going through his usual morning routine. A news report came on, bathing him in a dim, pale light as he watched and took another drink. "_And that's today's weather. Coming up, we go live at daybreak to take a look at one of Chicago's most bizarre folk legends--_ "

Sometimes beginnings aren't so simple,

Faith and Frechette blended smoothly into each other's arms, her head resting contentedly on his shoulder at last. And then, with no further word, they began to dance together, swaying gently back and forth, dim in the light of the candles and the brightening sky.

Sometimes good bye's the only way...

Earlier that night, Taggerty's was busy, filled with light and activity. the sky outside still dark, hours before sunrise. People laughed, people danced. As Trevor's voice was heard speaking to Claire, and the front door opened.

"_I love you, Claire. But I have to be who I am. No matter the cost. No matter what happens because of it..._"

At the bar, Taggerty's manager, Champ Terrace, looked over, his eyes locking onto Trevor, standing inside by the entrance, and Champ's eyes widened.

Slowly the crowd inside began to recognize the new arrival, come in and circling around with smiles and surprised exclamations, tapping him on the back as Trevor became the center of attention as Champ watched from the bar. Champ was motionless, in absolute shock, watching the happy people around Trevor, seeing the new light in Trevor's eyes, but not knowing what to do. Then quietly resigned, his mouth closed, accepting it. Trevor's gaze turned across the room and looked at him. The two men shared a long, silent glance. Champ gave him a small, resolute nod, before Trevor turned back to his adoring throng again.

And the sun will set for you...

Claire lowered her eyes in the studio. A weight seemed to suddenly lift off her shoulders. When she spoke, her words were kind and full of sympathy.

"It's okay. I know you're right. I... I should have seen it too. A long time ago." She paused, her emotions more certain now. "You do what you need to do. I love you. I allays have. I--"

Claire waited and took a breath. And then she... jumped.

"I'm always with you, Trevor."

His voice came over the headphones. "_I know. Thank you Claire. It'll be all right. Trust me._ "

Claire laughed. "The day I start doing that, I'll be as crazy as you."

She could hear his smile, even over the phone. "_Maybe. You may be right. I may be crazy. 'But it just might be a lunatic that you're looking for'._"

The sun will set for you...

There was a frantic knocking on the front door as Trevor stood in his living room. With the phone against his ear, he moved over to answer it, opening it to see a tired looking Jaclyn standing there bleary eyed after he had asked for her help. He guided her into the house, the phone still against his ear.

"Look, I gotta go. I love you, Claire."

In her radio studio, Claire smiled at his words. Her eyes were full of tenderness as she spoke softly.

"I love you too, Trevor. Talk to you later... Cupid."

Slowly, she reached over and pushed the button to close the call, feeling lighter, and more free than she had in a long time. Then with a happy sigh she looked up, realizing that her producer was motionless, watching her in an absolute stunned silence, her jaw gapping and her eyes wide at what she had just heard.

And the shadow of the day, will embrace the world in gray.

Smiling and not worried, Claire looked eagerly back at her phone line board, picking a waiting line and pressing to connect to it before speaking into the microphone before. "Ok. Moving on to the next caller. Welcome to LOVE NOTES. I'm Claire Allen."

And the sun will set for you...

A guitar solo began to play, lively and energetic with anticipation., The music continued as another footstep moved through the frozen grass, more tombstones sliding past. Almost there now.

A pretty, blond haired reporter was shivering in the cold air. The lower lip on her smooth, youthful face quivered, and her brow was wrinkled with frustration as she stomped her feet to stay warm in the cold pre morning air, bundled tightly penetrating February chill. The sky above her was getting brighter, and she blew into her hands to keep them warm as she watched the cameramen set up the lights for her remote newscast.

The pretty blond reporter shook her head. "God... I can't believe I drew this puff piece assignment when I should be on a warm beach in the Pocanos right now. I must have really pissed off Tom to deserve something like this on Valentine's Day."

A production tech was listening in on some overlarge headphones nearby before speaking out. "Ok. They're starting the lead out. Positions everyone."

Cameras swiveled. Lights switched on, illuminating the pretty blonde's face in the dim morning light as the warming sky colored above her. The shivers and complaints dropped instantly to be replace with a bright yet vacant smile. She stayed on her mark and waited for her cue as the tech started counting down.

"And we're on in five... four... three..."

The woman waiting, before finally there was a flick of hand, and she spoke in a clean, clear voice.

"Thanks Linda. Welcome everyone on this cold Valentine's day morning to the site of one of the city's unique oddities. Chicago's very own-- ow--... Oh... my god."

"My point exactly." a voice said.  
The blond woman was dumbstruck, looking past the camera at something beyond its view.

The tech's voice could be heard from off to the side.

"Wait.. Isn't that--."

The footsteps continued forward, now bathed in the light from the morning sky above, before finally stopping on the cold grass to stand in one spot, a grave marker directly behind.

The tech's voice called out. "Turn the camera! Get a light on him!"

In his apartment Rick was watching the same newscast, watching as the tv image hastily swiveled to one side and centered on a figure, the lights finally illuminating him. He suddenly jerked up in his chair, not believing what he was seeing on the screen. The image shook and bounced as the camera readjusted, trying to get closer. He heard the blond reporter's voice calling out.

"_Get on him! Get on him!_"

Slowly the scene stabilized on Rick's television. On the edge the blond reporter stepped into view, moving closer to the figure on the screen, the camera bouncing before it zoomed in on the man's face. Trevor was there, standing proudly before the lights and the camera, his feet planted on his own grave, the grave the camera crew had come to film, the grave of Cupid, The God of Love.

The blond reporter stepped closer, approaching slowly. She seemed nervous as she extended her microphone.

"_Are... Are you..._ "

Rick waited, the silence of the moment stretching.

Outside as he stood atop his grave, Trevor took a deep breath of the crisp air. He extended his hands out to either side, his grin warm and genuine as he basked under the attention of the cameras on him.

"Daddy's home, kids." He said proudly, before he stepped over to the pretty reporter. "Hi. I'm Trevor Hale. Cupid, the god of love. By the way, I know the perfect guy for you," he made a phone motion with one hand over his ear, winking at her. "Call me after this. We'll talk."

In his apartment, Rick watched, stunned.

"Wow..."

He smiled as on the screen Trevor laughed, looking happily into the camera, his smile bright and shining with the light of a thousand suns.

In the sky above, the light grew further, until finally the glittering edge of the sun began to climb over the edge of the distant horizon, spilling a clear glow onto the grave site as the reporter stepped forward, her fear gone but now asking questions at a mile a minute.

Rick leaned back in his chair, amazed. "Guess some people can be saved after all."

The glare of the new morning flowed into Frechette's home, but he hardly noticed. Still dancing slowly with Faith, he looked into his 'imaginary' girlfriend's eyes as the sun's rays flowed warmly past the two of them, bathing them in colored light.

Trevor stood in the middle of the camera crew, the remote lights shining brightly on him as the sun rose further into the sky behind him. More still cameras from every side began flashing brightly like pulsing stars, as the sunlight flowed across the tombstones and brought everything out of the shadows.

And the shadow of the day, will embrace the world in gray.

Back at Claire and Trevor's home, Jaclyn was holding Bliss in her lap, pointing her towards the television to see her father as Bliss laughed and clapped happily.

Watching the same broadcast in his apartment, Rick paused, before looking down at the almost empty bottle in his hand. He thought about what Trevor was doing at that very moment, and he went silent for several seconds. "I need another beer..."

Slowly, he stood up and headed towards the sink, the bottle in his hand. But then he paused, looking down at the gun lying on the counter, feeling the weight of it. His hand moved, still holding the beer, but hovering over the gun... before he tilted what was left of the bottle into the sink. He opened the fridge door beside him, grabbing the rest of the new beer bottles he had, opening them all and one by one pouring them into the sink.

At his grave site, Trevor said nothing, not answering the questions being thrown at him. Instead he grinned at the cameras, soaking it all in, before he shook his shoulders at them and laughed.

Beyond them, the rising sun seemed to flare brightly, filling everything with white...

... which faded to show Frechette's home as the sunrise pored in, and two figures dancing in the rays of that same light, eyes only for each other. As the view seemed to slide past the contented and in love couple, it shifted to the wall behind them to see not one, but two distinct shadows visible there, whole and very real. A man and a woman, dancing, swaying happily, like nothing else in the universe mattered..

And the sun will set for you...

And as the couple danced, the music ended, and everything faded to black.

THE END

Author's note: Thanks for reading! :) Rough, and still patirally incomplete, this could be considered and ending to the present cycle of stories, or maybe even a beginning for other stories. But in my head, this story continues in the far future with Cupid in Space. It will be a two story sequence that will finally wrap all this up for me. Thanks again. It's been long but fun. (TWSS) :)  



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